‘You gave the police a false alibi, saying you were with your mum, because you didn’t want your affair to come out? And your mum backed you up?’ I checked, my voice weak. I was stunned. Not by the revelation, but by how petty it was.
‘I were with Ursula till late, about two in the morning, then she got a phone call and I went home. Her husband were away, so—’
‘Okay, well, that’s none of my business. But thanks for being so honest,’ I snapped.
Disappointed, I trudged away. Wiggins bounded after me, giving an excited bark at being on our way once more.
Another dead end. I was never going to get to the bottom of who hurt you – and why. Not until you woke and told us yourself. If you remembered.
‘Mel!’ shouted Davy. I didn’t bother turning. ‘Talk to Ursula.’
But I’d no interest in hearing her confirm his tawdry alibi.
It was only as I got home and lay down on the sofa that a thought occurred in my drink-slowed mind. If Davy lied about his alibi because he was with Ursula, then Ursula lied too – about her cosy night in with Chloe.
Fifty-Six
If Glenn was surprised he could smell alcohol on me at ten o’clock on a Monday morning when we met at the marsh, Beth, he didn’t express it. Instead he listened as I filled him in on what Davy had told me earlier.
While talking, I paced up and down the sea bank, beneath a sky filled with clouds as black as my mood. Gusts of wind tattooed my face with fine needles of icy rain. Far in the distance a weather front moved in, bringing with it a nasty cloudburst. But we had a while before it would arrive – the flat landscape did strange things to perspective, making distant things seem closer and close things seem distant. I kept talking and walking, telling Glenn everything.
‘Yeah, but Ursula only lied so that her affair wouldn’t be discovered, didn’t she?’ he asked. ‘There’s nothing more sinister to it than that, is there?’
‘No, listen. Davy was adamant I talk to Ursula, and I think I know why. If Ursula was busy with her fancy man, then where was Chloe? They’ve given statements saying she was at home with Ursula, but what if she was with Beth? What if she witnessed who attacked her?’
Glenn frowned. Bent down and picked a blade of rough grass, then pulled it apart slowly, letting the pieces flutter away in the wind. I watched them, achingly sad. Bits of me were being blown away on the breeze too. I was disappearing; the person I had been a month earlier was gone, replaced with someone I wasn’t certain of.
‘Come on, then.’ He gave me the softest punch on my arm. ‘Let’s go and interrogate Ursula. I mean, pose a few friendly questions.’
‘Right now? You’ll come with me?’ I asked hopefully.
He winked his reply, and we walked back to the van arm in arm.
Five minutes later, we pulled up at the Seagull’s Outlook.
‘Hey, what about her threat to get an injunction if you go near her or Chloe?’ Glenn said suddenly, pulling me back.
‘Come on, she’s not going to turn custom away from her café, is she? I’m just a paying customer who has come in for a nice hot cuppa on a cold day. Brrrrr.’
On cue, the rain went from being on the wind to a drizzle. Glenn rolled his eyes and grinned, then opened the door.
With a cheery ting, the bell announced our arrival.
Seagull’s Outlook Café was virtually deserted at this time of year, apart from the odd dedicated birder and twitcher, and the occasional local. A couple, retired I’d guess, had taken the table at the centre of the small tea room. Sensible walking shoes, outfits in neutral colours. The man, tall and thin, with hair so white it almost didn’t look natural, sitting on top of an angular face with friendly eyes. His wife the opposite, all soft curves and nervous glances. Judging by the impressive binoculars that sat on a chair beside them, they were birdwatchers.
The café was done up like a posh beach hut. Limewashed wood ran across the bottom half of the walls, to match the tables and chairs and the counter. A faded blue was used here and there on the striped curtains, the cushions and the floor. The cups, saucers and dishes were white with a blue stripe. Decorative rope knots on the walls continued the nautical theme, and the toilets had rope signs above them which spelled out ‘Buoys’ and ‘Gulls’. The home-baked cakes were displayed on pretty, tiered, glass cake stands from yesteryear. Everything was sparkling, clean and bright – perfect, just the way Ursula wanted them to be.
I ruined the room’s perfection. Muddy walking boots. Jeans that needed washing, a sensible but shapeless jumper that, now I came to think of it, I’d been putting on for over a week. It probably smelled a bit. My hair was pulled back into a ponytail that may or may not have been messy – I had no idea, as I hadn’t been looking in the mirror when doing it.
Ursula was busy serving someone. As she leaned over the counter to chat, the V-neck of the duck-egg blue cashmere jumper she wore sagged down to show off her cleavage. Her bottom half was hidden behind the counter, but I had no doubt she was wearing something glamorous.
‘What can I do you for?’ she asked, as always. Cue titter. ‘See anything you fancy?’
‘Only you, duck,’ came the inevitable seaside postcard reply. ‘Eh, if I were ten years younger.’ Mr Langton was ninety-one. He leaned on his walking stick as he lurched forward to smile.
‘Ooh, cheeky! Good job I’m a happily married woman, or I’d take you up on your offer!’
She had always been good at banter, had Ursula. But the comment about being happily married was by far the funniest thing she had said, Beth.
As she handed Mr Langton his cup of tea, she glanced up at her next customer. Me. There was the slightest stutter in her movement. Her sparkling smile was suddenly accessorised with wet spaniel eyes, which darted away from my gaze. On the plus side, she had clearly forgiven our last argument.
‘How is Beth?’ she asked. ‘If only she’d knocked on my door that night…’
‘But if she’d knocked on your door she’d have seen something she shouldn’t, wouldn’t she, Ursula?’ There was no question in Glenn’s voice, merely a statement. I was glad he’d spoken up – I hadn’t a clue what to say to broach the subject.
She bit her frosted-pink lip, then picked up a cloth and started scrubbing industriously at some invisible dirt on the counter. Glenn elbowed me.
‘Beth would have seen you with Davy, wouldn’t she, Ursula, if she had knocked on your door that night. Caught you at it.’
My voice was louder than Glenn’s had been. The birdwatching couple looked up. Ursula threw the dishcloth down and looked at me, horror-struck.
‘For God’s sake, Melanie, I’ve got customers in here. I don’t want everyone knowing.’
‘Knowing you were having an affair with Davy Young? Is that why you and Steve split, because he found out?’
‘None of your damn business.’