Beth was woken by Sami, already dressed in running gear.
‘I’m off.’ He paused, then sat on the edge of the bed. ‘Look, I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. Everything has got on top of me lately.’
‘You’re out early?’ she said, not smiling.
‘Lots to do. Adam is coming into work today, by the way. If he was awake, I’d have taken him up to the Hendersons’. The grass is so long, I need to mow it.’
It was a relief when Sami left. Beth opened the curtains, let the light in, but it didn’t let anything even close to happiness in with it. She had slept badly, throwing around the questions about Sami. She would allow anger and despair to take turns as she allowed for the possibility of her husband having an affair with her best friend, but before she could go over that edge a voice would hold her back. What if she was wrong? Then she felt guilty for even contemplating such a thing.
Some women she knew would have already confronted their husband, demanded the truth, but that wasn’t Beth’s way. In any case, even to question someone’s fidelity was a massive step. Even if they could prove they’d done nothing, surely your relationship would never be quite the same again?
Beth was greeted as always downstairs by Ollie wagging his tail and asking for fuss. Leaning down she stroked him, trying to catch his enthusiasm for a new day. ‘At least you’re pleased to see me,’ she said, and smiled at him.
She checked her phone. There was a message from Patrick.
Would you be able to come over some time to help sort out some of Kathleen’s clothes?
She groaned. Not today. Of all the things to do. Then she stopped: that wasn’t fair. Patrick was suffering heartbreak. If this is what he needed help with today, what right had she to say no? She replied that she was free later that day, and it was arranged that she would go in the afternoon.
Layla came into the kitchen.
‘We’ll leave about half eight?’ said Beth.
Layla didn’t answer. They were back into the row about Layla not being allowed out the night before to see Conor’s band. Elsa had probably been texting Layla about it, winding her up.
‘I could make pancakes or something.’
‘Don’t bother,’ said Layla as she stormed out.
Beth knew some people thought you could let these rebuffs float past you, that you could rationalise that ‘this is the way teenagers are’, but just because she didn’t shout back didn’t mean she didn’t feel angry and hurt.
Beth went out and fed the guinea pigs, mumbling, ‘Remember the day you came home, Layla said “Mum, I promise you, you will never ever have to clean or feed them.” Great, eh? It’s a good job I never believed her. Maybe even a crap mother has her uses.’
Beth could see Ollie waiting for his walk. ‘You have a treat this morning. We’ll take Layla to her exam and then me and you will go up Mottistone Down.’
She had breakfast and showered, then knocked on Adam’s bedroom door.
‘I’m taking Layla to her exams soon. Have a good day at the pharmacy. Don’t forget it’s the St Patrick’s meal tonight.’
‘That again?’
‘You don’t have to come, but—’
‘It’s all right. I’ll probably come.’
They were about to leave when Sami returned. He’d bought a copy of the local paper but put it on the table still folded. They both ignored it.
‘I’m taking Layla in a minute. Patrick has asked me to go and help sort out Kathleen’s things.’
‘OK. Good luck with that.’
Sami disappeared upstairs. Anxiously, Beth looked at the time. Layla stomped down the stairs.
They drove in silence to Freshwater and reached the end of the road where Layla’s flute teacher lived and where the flute and singing exams would take place.
‘Drop me here,’ said Layla.
Beth pulled in and Layla got out. ‘Good luck,’ she called, but Layla turned and said, ‘Don’t wait. I’ll get the bus back,’ and walked away.
Beth gripped the steering wheel in irritation. Fine, Layla could get the bus. There was only one every hour or so, so she would have to wait.
‘Come on, Ollie. Let’s go. Hopefully, she will be in a better mood later.’
Beth took Ollie up on to Mottistone Down. She hadn’t been up there for a while. The fresh air and wonderful views welcomed her like a warm blanket. It was a bright spring day. In the distance the sea was dark blue, the sky clear above it. Opposite, she could see the woods, and even from here she could hear the woodpeckers, the pheasants. There was no one else up there and so she let Ollie off the lead. Nose down, he dashed around, gathering the smells. Beth stopped and watched a kestrel, hovering, wondering how it stayed so still in the winds, then saw it dive, arrow shaped, into the long grass.
Up here she could breathe. Her mother’s house had been on the outskirts of Swansea, well inland from the sea, but at the same time it never felt as if the sea was far away. The house had originally been the farmhouse of her mother’s parents. Beth’s early years had been idyllic. As she walked, she realised it was a time of her life she often forgot. It was hard to get past things that happened in her teens, but up here on the downs she sometimes felt in touch with it again.
However, today nothing could push away her anxieties about Sami. He was such a straightforward person. In a world of nuance and greys he had always been her rock. Or so she had thought.
Was sleeping with Sami Kathleen’s ‘big mistake’? Had Sami loved Kathleen? Had he slept with her because she was prettier, thinner, more seductive, than Beth? But Kathleen said she’d regretted the fling: that would mean she hadn’t wanted to leave Patrick. Sami may have loved her, but he’d have discovered that she didn’t feel the same.
Now, of course, if Kathleen had said she was going to confess all to Patrick, if Sami’s infidelity had been made public, that confession could mean the end of her marriage, of Sami’s reputation in the village, his parents’ approval. He would lose everything and not even have Kathleen. How far would he go to prevent Kathleen ruining his life? Had Sami been playing the part of a happily married man all these years?
The brash bleating of lambs in a distant field temporarily distracted Beth, and as her mind was dragged back to her thoughts about Sami, she frantically tried to find a sense of perspective. She had to remind herself of the Sami she knew. He was not a violent, cruel man. Surely, whatever Kathleen said, it was impossible to live with someone for eighteen years and have them completely wrong?
Beth looked around for Ollie. ‘Come on. Enough of this. Let’s get on.’ She attached his lead, returned to the car and then took Ollie home. The house was still: no sign of Layla. Beth tried ringing her but there was no answer, so she sent a text.
Hope the exams went well. I am going over to help Patrick this afternoon. See you later. Mum x
As she sent it, she thought again of the effect of Sami having had an affair on the children, her home. She swallowed the lump of emotion in her throat. No. She couldn’t go there: not again, not now.
The rest of the morning flittered away, questions still rushing around in her head, each shouting for attention.
Later that day Beth drove over to Patrick’s. She rang the bell but no one answered. Beth didn’t know what to do. It was very isolated out there, and different to the rural quiet Beth had grown up in. In the daytime there had been the sounds of farm animals, tractors; somewhere someone could be seen in the distance, working, walking their dog; but this was different. There was no one, and the only sounds were a few small birds high in the trees.
There was a double garage, the door open. Beth could see a motor bike and Patrick’s car, back from the garage. He must be here somewhere: she rang the doorbell again; still no answer.
Beth walked along the front of the house. She couldn’t see anyone through the windows. Either side of the house there were enormous locked gates. There was no way she could get around the back.
She called out for Patrick, and finally someone shouted, ‘Hold on. I’ll unlock the gate.’ Sean opened it and let her in.
‘Sorry. I rang the doorbell. Patrick asked me to come round.’
‘He’s probably got his headphones on. Come on through into the garden while I find him.’
Sean locked the gate while she walked ahead. There was no one in the garden and she felt rather self-conscious walking on her own. She started to feel like she was intruding. The temporary fence was still there. She walked down towards it; was it really less than a week since Kathleen had died?
Beth looked out to sea and then realised something was missing from the scene. A sound. She looked to her left: the hens, they had gone, and not only the hens but the coop, the run, everything. There were holes in the grass, and some grain but nothing else remained. Beth found it heart breaking. Kathleen would have hated it. However, her mind returned to the morning Kathleen died. It was odd about the hens. Kathleen would never have let them out, so how did they come to be running around the garden?
’I’ve tracked him down,’ said Sean and she followed him back towards the house.
‘How is he?’
‘He doesn’t say much. He is on his computer a lot, looking at photos.’
Beth looked back to sea. ‘The last time I stood there was with Kathleen, in the dark. I feel somehow like I’m stuck there. Nothing makes sense any more.’
‘I’ve been speaking to Kathleen’s mother. She’s devastated, of course.’
Beth blinked. ‘I’d not even thought about her family over there; only how it was affecting me. That’s awful, isn’t it? She has a sister, hasn’t she?’
‘Yes. Roisin. A few years older than her.’
‘Do you know her family? Sorry, I tend to assume that because you are from Dublin as well you are bound to know her, like people think everyone here on the Isle of Wight knows each other.’
‘I do know them a bit. I first met them at Pat and Kathleen’s wedding. My wife had been to school with Roisin.’
‘Your wife must be missing you. How long are you staying?’
‘I’m not sure. I’m concerned about Pat. I can’t leave him yet. He worshipped her, you know, from the first time he saw her. You know, he wouldn’t let me meet her for months.’
‘Why ever not?’
‘He was paranoid, scared she’d prefer me. Crazy. I was happily married, but he had this thing that I was in a steady job, she’d prefer that and, of course, if she made a play for me, I wouldn’t be able to resist. Pat never trusted anyone with Kathleen.’
Beth looked down. ‘And their marriage stayed strong, did it?’
Sean screwed up his face. ‘Of course. Why are you asking?’
‘It’s a bit confusing.’ Beth looked at the badge of a shamrock pinned to Sean’s jumper. ‘Erm, happy St Patrick’s Day. Sorry, I’m not sure if it’s the right thing to say.’
‘It’s fine. Kathleen loved it.’
‘I haven’t cancelled the get-together at the pub tonight. You could mention it to Patrick. You are both welcome, but obviously I’m not expecting him to come.’
‘I’ll tell him.’
‘It’s one of those things we have done for years. On St David’s Day Kathleen always brought me a bunch of daffs, and we’d go up the pub, just the two of us. This year was the first time we missed that.’ Beth paused, remembering the text:
Sorry, I can’t make today. Life’s hectic, but Happy St David’s Day.
Beth felt a pang of guilt as she remembered she’d been offended by Kathleen cancelling, and had been off hand in her reply. Why on earth hadn’t she realised then that something was very wrong?
‘The Family Liaison Officer, Sue, has been round a few times,’ Sean said.
‘Oh, good. I wondered if they were keeping you up to date.’
‘She seems competent, reassuring. Tells Pat just what he needs to know.’
Beth tried to keep her voice level, calm. ‘On the morning that Kathleen died, when they were all down here, do you know if they found anything unusual?’
‘I don’t think so. I’ve had a few chats with them. Sue said they didn’t find any footprints, no physical objects that had been left, no scraps of material or hairs: nothing. She said they also check things like broken branches or for signs of a struggle. No, there was nothing.’
‘So they don’t think anyone had come down here? There wasn’t a hint that someone could have come and attacked Kathleen?’
Sean looked puzzled by her intensity. ‘That’s been troubling you? I have to admit it seemed highly unlikely to me.’
‘Sami and Alex were saying they were asked about what they were doing on Monday morning. Obviously, I don’t think they were suspected of anything, but I did wonder if they were doing routine checks because they had suspicions of foul play as they call it.’
‘I’m surprised they were asked questions like that, but in my conversations with the police, no one suggested anything had been amiss.’ Sean gave a slight smile. ‘Having said that, Patrick did tell me they’d checked he’d not taken out some massive life insurance on her, but of course he hadn’t.’
They started to walk back to the house.
‘Patrick told me you were coming to go through some of Kathleen’s things. That’s kind of you. By the way, if you find Kathleen’s phone and headphones could you let us know? We can’t find them anywhere and they should have been down there. She usually used them for her mindfulness, and anyway, she always had her phone with her.’
‘It’s odd. Weren’t the police concerned about that?’
‘They said they had noted it, like the hens.’
‘Ah. Did they manage to find out how they escaped?’
‘Funny. They did look into it. There were never padlocks on but the hen coop door and the gate to the run were secured with substantial sliding bolts. Both had been slid back. It must have been something Kathleen did by mistake.’
‘I can’t think why she would do that.’
‘I think it will be written off as one of those things.’
Beth couldn’t feel as relaxed about it as Sean: things didn’t add up.
‘It’s great you are helping with the clothes. Pat has no idea what to do with them, and I’m no help with that kind of thing. It seems a shame to dump them.’ Sean sighed. ‘Sorry, it’s not a particularly pleasant thing to have to do.’
‘I don’t mind. Anything I can do to help. You more than most of us know how much practical stuff needs doing when someone dies. I hadn’t been at all prepared for it when my mother died. I’m an only child. I was so glad of a solicitor who was joint executor. I’d have been lost without him.’
‘I’ve been working through things. I’ve already sorted out her car, so he doesn’t need to worry about that.’
‘And what about Conor? How is he doing?’
Sean bit his lip, raised his eyebrows. ‘Conor’s a complicated lad, isn’t he? Him and Pat get on well. He might stay, although he had been talking about going travelling after his exams. I’m not sure what he’ll do now.’
They walked through large patio doors into the open living space. At one end Beth could see Patrick with his back to her, engrossed on his computer. She walked towards him and then stopped. On the screen she could see a picture of Kathleen. Patrick seemed to be using a programme to enhance the photo, making the eyes a bit bluer, a bit wider. Beth watched, feeling uneasy, remembering what Gemma said about Patrick’s obsession with Kathleen, remembering his words, ‘You are mine for ever now.’ Was it possible that Patrick’s obsession was deeper, darker than anyone had ever realised and Kathleen was secretly desperate to get away? Patrick might have been fighting to keep her, threatening even to kill her if she tried to leave him and so she’d kept quiet. If Beth was right about that, then Kathleen’s plan had been to reveal all the next day, but death had intervened, silenced her.
Beth steadied herself, some of that was possible, but the final step was not. Patrick had conveniently ensured he was not here. He appeared at least to have no way of getting here that morning.
Beth heard Sean shout, ‘Pat.’
Patrick turned, slowly blinked as if surprised to see them, and then quickly closed the programme. ‘Beth. Hi. Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.’
‘Sean let me in the garden. I see it’s all back to normal out there.’
‘Thank God. They’ve taken down that awful tape.’
‘The hens have gone?’
‘Jilly next door has taken them on. Honest to God, I had no idea what to do with them. I feel guilty. Kathleen loved them so much, but they are better off with Jilly.’
‘That’s a good idea. Kathleen would have wanted the best for them.’
‘Jilly’s made up with them. Strange isn’t it?’ Patrick stood up. ‘Let me get you a drink. Have you had lunch?’
‘Yes, thanks. A cup of tea would be lovely, though.’
Although Patrick had stood up, Sean went to make her drink.
They went upstairs together, Beth carefully carrying her mug of tea. Patrick pushed open the door to Kathleen’s room, but Beth noticed he stayed at the entrance.
‘Sean has put boxes there. If you could put in things for the clothing bank, things for charity. If you want anything—’ He paused.
Beth smiled. ‘Kathleen was a few sizes smaller than me, so, no thank you. Don’t worry. I’ll sort things out.’
‘Her books as well?’
‘Of course.’ Beth was aware Patrick was looking straight at her, averting his eyes from the rest of the room. ‘Are you sure you want me to do this today? You don’t have to rush this, you know.’
‘No, please. I’d like you to do it.’ Beth saw the flash of pain, real grief.
‘OK, fine. You can leave me to it if you want.’
Patrick walked quickly away. Beth felt awkward: this was Kathleen’s private space.
She found a coaster and put her mug on the bedside table, Then she went over and nervously opened a large fitted wardrobe, full of beautiful clothes that looked like and smelt of Kathleen. It was a shock, more upsetting than she anticipated.
At the bottom she saw a small wooden box, which she opened. Inside were some scarves which Beth took out and put on the bed. Inside, at the bottom, was a small jeweller’s box which she opened. Inside was a pair of stunning earrings, which Beth recognised straight away as matching the necklace Amy had given Kathleen. She held them up. The light shone in a thousand tiny beams of light. What surprised her was the name on the box: De Beer, the diamond company. So, they were real. Her hand shook. These were very expensive earrings and they matched the necklace Amy had given Kathleen. But why were the earrings shut in a box down here?
She picked them up and went to Kathleen’s dressing table, opened the drawer. In there was a large, leather jewellery box. She put the earrings inside it, alongside the other bracelets and earrings: very good quality but nothing as special as these. Beth noticed a small clear bag containing a thin square box and was curious. She opened it, and found a large silver coin with a heart and butterfly engraved on it. It was very Kathleen. Beth smiled, put it back and returned to sorting clothes.
Taking a deep breath, she realised most were immaculate and, she reckoned, could be folded carefully and put in the box for the charity shop.
Beth decided to start with coats and jackets. Put the heavy things at the bottom of the box. Starting with a beautiful camel jacket, she checked pockets before folding them. She realised that if someone did this with her coats, they would be pulling out handfuls of tissues, a roll of dog poo bags, the odd cough sweet, but Kathleen was obviously far more meticulous than her. It wasn’t until she got to a thick wool coat that she found anything, and that was a tiny scrunched up piece of paper, pushed deep inside the pocket.
Beth pulled it out and was about to throw it in the small wastepaper bin when out of curiosity she started to unfold it. It was a receipt from a supermarket in London: not many items. What caught Beth’s attention was one item: a pregnancy test. It had been purchased in the January of that year.
Beth stared at the piece of paper. Was it possible that Kathleen had been pregnant? Had she been pregnant when she died? Beth sat on the edge of the bed. It would come out in the post-mortem. No one had mentioned it yet. Had Patrick known he was about to be a father? What if the father had been the person Kathleen had the affair with? Beth felt a wave of nausea. She thought of Sami. Oh God, no.
The idea of Sami being unfaithful broke her heart. The idea of him fathering a child with Kathleen smashed that broken heart into a million pieces. A one night fling she might have eventually forgiven, but to have fathered a child… No, she didn’t think she would ever get over that. Sami would have known that. He knew his whole way of life would have been lost for ever, and if any part of him had wanted to preserve that, the pressure to silence Kathleen would have been immense. Beth stared at the receipt: a tiny, scruffy bit of paper, but one that might be the touch paper that destroyed her entire life.