The silence stretched as I tried to take this in. She reached out to pat my hand. I moved it out of the way.
‘Beth developed an attachment to James Harvey, and created a fantasy relationship?’ I murmured.
‘That’s what the evidence points to, yes. I’m sorry.’
The clothes, the secrets and lies, the fantasy world you had woven… Had I known my little girl at all, Beth?
Forty-Seven
BETH
SATURDAY 16 JANUARY
The. Biggest. Smile. Ever.
That’s what Beth had plastered on her face as she walked home from Decoy Wood. Watching nature always did that to her. She had seen a hare racing across the dark brown fertile fields, then a little later a fox trotting along, following the scent before finding something more interesting that took it off in a different direction. Presumably something more likely to fill its belly. There had been redwings and fieldfares, crows and starlings, as well as several robins. Not too bad a haul to note in her journal.
The sightings had made Beth lose track of time, though, and she was forced to hurry home. She knew her mum fretted if she were late.
Almost there.
She scurried past the Picky Person’s Pop In—
‘Oh!’
Beth bumped into Alison Daughtrey-Drew. The woman’s handbag flew from her shoulder, spilling contents as it dropped to the ground. Both scrambled to pick everything up. Beth picked up a clear plastic bag stuffed with pastel-coloured pills that looked like sweeties. Almost.
Alison snatched at them.
They looked at each other, neither knowing what to do. Like a rabbit and a fox spotting each other, and that moment of stillness before they ran.
‘I, er, I better go.’
‘Wait. Keep quiet, and I’ll make it worth your while.’
Mum always said Alison had a face like a horse. It was definitely long, but so was the rest of her – Beth only came up to her shoulder. But Alison didn’t have the vibe of a horse. Although she’d had very little to do with the older girl, Beth knew her as well as the next person in the village and had always been reminded more of a weasel. Lithe, intelligent, quick, with a ruthless streak beneath the kindly exterior and cut-glass accent.
‘I’m quiet. Nothing to tell!’ the teen squeaked.
Alison gave her an appraising look. Then a gentle laugh. ‘It’s Beth, isn’t it? Listen, Beth, this really isn’t a big deal. I’m holding onto them for a friend, and I’d hate my stupidity to get them in trouble—’
‘Seriously, Alison. I’m cool – but I’m running late. Got to go.’
As she walked away, she truly did try to be cool, but her eyes were wide with shock. She knew those tablets were Ecstasy – the school had given them an anti-drugs talk recently. Still, she decided to keep quiet about Alison’s haul. She didn’t want people thinking she was a grass.
*
Guilt gnawed at her at home, though. She felt that somehow her parents would know she had seen something she shouldn’t.
‘You okay?’ asked Mum, as if reading her mind.
‘Yeah! ’Course.’
‘Sure? Only you’re chewing at your thumb, and that normally means you’re worrying about something.’
‘I’ve got something to take your mind off whatever it is,’ Dad chimed. ‘My new camera’s arrived! You can borrow it sometimes for a bit of nature photography. Long as you’re careful.’
‘Oh, wow, Dad!’
Soon they were mucking about, troubles forgotten. Pulling stupid expressions at the camera and smushing their faces together. Mum couldn’t stop laughing, and insisted Dad print one off to put on the noticeboard.
‘My gorgeous family!’ she grinned, stepping back to admire the bug-eyed image.
Beth stood behind her, looking at the image, her smile fading. In the photograph she looked the same as ever: innocent, happy, carefree. She didn’t understand how the truth couldn’t show. Her innocence was being shattered; she was weighed down with secrets.
Forty-Eight
After DS Devonport left, I didn’t call Jacob. I didn’t want his hope shattered until it had to be. Let him stay at work. Not knowing was better than realising the person who hurt our daughter had been released – although the bad news would, of course, be tempered with relief that the test proved you hadn’t been interfered with sexually. Besides, with James Harvey exonerated, thanks to a fictitious alibi, Jacob’s own missing hour was bound to come under scrutiny again.
Once more, I instinctively turned to my new friend.
‘How’s the hangover?’ Glenn quipped when he answered his phone. But he fell silent as I explained everything.
‘The police might have given up on James Harvey, but I’m still not entirely convinced,’ I finished.
‘Beth must have had some encouragement from him to weave such elaborate lies.’
‘Too right. She’s an intelligent, sensitive girl. He took advantage somehow.’ I picked at the skin on my thumb while speaking. A bead of blood appeared and grew; the light shining on it as it bulged until it could no longer contain its shape and began to trickle.
‘What about confronting him? A mother’s anger, and all that? He might cave when faced with what he’s done.’
‘You know what? That’s a bloody good point.’
‘Want me there, for moral support?’
‘I can handle that pond scum on my own, thanks.’
Before that day, I’d have described James Harvey’s flat as neat, tidy, clean and modern. Pale blue walls, minimalist IKEA furniture and stylish, neutral striped throws. It had felt like a safe place to bring my daughter for private guitar lessons. Now it felt grubby, seedy, tainted with what the owner had been doing there.
James had seemed such a squeaky-clean, polite, nice young man. Talented and artistic, he had reminded me slightly of Jacob, though they looked nothing alike, apart from being the same height. Where Jacob was blond, and his shorn hair showed off his fine bone structure, James was more hirsute: wavy brown hair shot with auburn and a neat, ruddy beard.
He carried his guitar as though it was the most precious thing in the world. The way he caressed its neck, fingering the struts with the lightest of touches to produce the sweetest sounds, it was obvious how much he loved it. He had fooled me into thinking he would look after you with the same care.
But as he stammered before me, unable to look me in the eye, I felt nothing but contempt for him. Even though he had let me in without so much as a word of protest, he refused to confess to me.
‘Tell me the truth, James. You were with Beth that night, weren’t you? Maybe you didn’t mean to hurt her. Things got out of control.’
‘No! No, it wasn’t like that.’
‘Then what was it like, James? Tell me.’
His eyes darted, hands clutching each other. ‘I didn’t hurt her. It wasn’t anything to do with me, I promise you, Mrs Oak.’
‘For God’s sake! Why are you lying? When Beth wakes up, she’ll tell the truth anyway.’
‘I can’t… I can’t.’ Then he straightened, resolved. ‘I can’t help you. You need to get out or I’ll call the police.’