Rosie has confessed but is claiming that it was all Wrigley’s idea. She was scared of him. He manipulated and controlled her. She was a victim herself. She has perfected the wide-eyed-innocent act. I hope she doesn’t get away with it. But she’s a good actress, and Simon Harper has deep pockets to pay for the best defence. Sometimes, justice isn’t always played out in the courts.
Rosie’s cousin, Tom, has denied knowledge of everything apart from the ‘pranks’ on Flo. I tend to believe him. There’s a big difference between a bully and a killer.
The police questioned me, but there’s nothing to refute my claim of self-defence. As Wrigley himself proclaimed – ‘fire fucks everything up’.
There are still loose ends. Like the murder of the couple in the next village. Not all resolutions are neat and tidy. Nor people’s motives. Although Wrigley was regarded as a troubled child, none of the experts who assessed him ever noticed any psychopathic traits.
‘They’re simply put together wrong. You can’t fix it.’
I glance at Flo. I hope I can fix her. She hasn’t talked much about what happened. Outwardly, she seems fine, if a little quiet. But I can see the damage in her eyes. I just hope it’s not permanent. She’s still young. There’s time to heal. Although we can never really erase trauma, our mind is good at repairing it, layering it over with new experiences, like fresh skin growing over an old wound. The scar remains. It just hurts less and becomes harder to see.
She glances at me. ‘Aren’t you eating your chips?’
I grimace. ‘Actually, I’m not that hungry.’
She smiles wanly. ‘Me neither.’
We sit for a moment and stare out at the sea.
‘Why does the sea here always look like manky tea?’
‘No idea. Still nice to see it, though?’
‘Meh.’
‘And sea air is good for you.’
‘Smells of sewage and seagull crap.’
‘You’re sounding better.’
‘Sort of.’ She looks down. ‘l still think about Wrigley.’
‘Well, it’s only been a couple of weeks.’
‘Is it weird that I feel sad he’s dead even after everything he did?’
‘No. I think maybe it’s harder to accept what he did because he’s dead. You never had a chance to deal with it.’
‘Yeah, maybe. When I think about him, I still see the Wrigley I thought I knew. The one I liked. Who made me laugh and quoted Bill Hicks.’
‘That’s natural. But it’ll fade.’
I hope.
‘Did Dad fade?’
I stiffen. ‘Yes. But, to be honest, he had faded a long time before he died.’
‘How d’you mean?’
‘It wasn’t a great marriage, Flo. He was an unhappy man and sometimes he took that out on me. I wasn’t sad when he died. I was shocked and angry, but he wasn’t the man I fell in love with.’ I wait for this to settle. ‘I’m sorry. I should have been more honest with you before.’
‘It’s okay,’ Flo says eventually. ‘Life is complicated, isn’t it?’
I wrap an arm around her shoulders. ‘Yeah, but I think ours has been more complicated than most, and I don’t want you to think you can’t trust people ever again.’
‘I know. But I might give dating a rest for a while.’
‘Well, as your mum, obviously I’m thrilled to hear that.’
Another small smile. ‘Mum, when can we go home?’
‘Well, the chapel isn’t going to be rebuilt for a while, if ever, so –’
‘No, I meant, home, to Nottingham.’
‘Right. Well –’ I take a breath and get ready to broach something I’ve been thinking about. ‘I need to speak to Bishop Durkin before we can really decide, but … what if we didn’t go back to Nottingham? What if we went somewhere else? Further away?’
‘Like where?’
‘Australia.’
Before she can reply, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pluck it out and glance at Flo. ‘It’s Mike.’
She nods to say I should answer it.
‘Hello?’
‘Hi.’
‘How are you both doing?’
‘We’re okay.’
‘Good.’
‘How are things there?’
‘Calming down a bit. Fewer press. Most of the police work is in the lab now, and that will take weeks.’
‘It’s a lot faster on CSI.’
He chuckles. ‘Who’d have thought that wasn’t wholly realistic?’
There’s a pause.
‘And how are you?’ I ask.
The revelations about Rosie have sparked renewed interest in his daughter’s death. Poppy has started to open up about some of the cruelties her sister inflicted upon her, including being forced into the abattoir on the day I first met her. I wonder if the scales are finally falling from Simon and Emma’s eyes when it comes to their elder daughter, and what she’s capable of.
‘I’m okay,’ he says. ‘Whatever the truth, it doesn’t bring her back, does it? Nothing changes that.’
‘No.’
A longer pause. Then he says: ‘Anyway, another interesting development. The skeletons in the well? The police are pretty sure one is Merry. Right age, and they found a necklace with the initial M. Apparently, both Merry and Joy wore necklaces with their initials on.’
‘And the other one?’
‘It isn’t Joy. It’s an older woman who had been through childbirth. They think it could be Merry’s mother. Murdered sometime later and dumped there.’
‘I see,’ I say flatly. ‘Guess a well is a good hiding place for bodies.’
‘Yeah. The police are very eager to trace Merry’s younger brother.’
‘Right.’
‘And there’s one more thing.’
‘What?’
‘Merry was pregnant.’
SIXTY-FOUR
They say not knowing is worse. But sometimes, knowing is just as bad. Knowing is finally finding that elusive needle in the haystack, only to discover that the needle was the very thing stopping the entire haystack from collapsing and burying you.
I make some phone calls. My first is to Bishop Durkin:
‘I just need you to tell me something, honestly.’
‘Is that really necessary?’
‘When did my name come up in connection with the position at Chapel Croft?’
‘Not long after Reverend Fletcher’s resignation.’
‘So, before his death?’
‘Yes.’
‘And who suggested me?’
‘Well, as you know, I had a conversation with Bishop Gordon at the Weldon diocese.’
‘Yes, I know that. I want to know who gave him my name.’
‘Does it matter?’
‘Yes. It does.’
Something in my tone must convince him. He considers for a moment and then he tells me.
My next call is to Kayleigh’s mother, Linda. I ask for a favour. She is happy to oblige.
When I tell Flo, she looks at me suspiciously. ‘So, I’m going to stay with Kayleigh for a couple of nights. What about you?’