‘And how are you going to do that? The Jachowskis won’t talk to anyone in the village after that mob the other day.’ My eyebrows must have been right beneath my hairline, I was so sceptical.
‘I’ll find out something, somehow, don’t you worry. Best if it’s only me, though. If you try to talk to anyone in the Jachowski family they’ll probably clam up.’
‘Good plan. Now then… let’s see if we can find out anything else.’
I pushed at the bottom of the window, trying to force it open. Glenn did the same on the neighbouring pane. I moved onto the next window. Fingertips exploring the underside, sides, corners, tops. There had to be a way in; burglars broke into far more secure houses than this every day. But I couldn’t manage it. Glenn and I went from window to window, working in opposite directions until we met again.
‘I could get something and smash a pane?’ he suggested.
I hesitated, then realised I was actually contemplating breaking and entering. Trespassing was one thing, but that was a bridge too far when we only had hunches leading us on.
‘Better not,’ I decided hurriedly. ‘I’m the law-abiding type.’
Glenn kicked gently at the bottom of the wooden door. ‘Probably wouldn’t take that much to kick it open…’
‘Love your enthusiasm, and it’s really tempting.’ I went on tiptoes again, cupping my hands around my eyes, the better to see inside. ‘But I can’t see anything in there that would make it worth getting a criminal record for.’
Disappointment sank through me. Another lead gone, another dead end. Would talking to Davy again be yet another wild goose chase? Probably, but I had to keep going – just in case.
‘Right, how are we going to get back over that bloody fence?’ I asked, forcing myself to brighten up.
It was actually easier going back. Glenn gave me a boost in his cupped hands. From there, I stepped fairly easily up to the strut across the middle and pulled myself over the fence. This time when I jumped down, though, I landed awkwardly, lurching forward and going down heavily onto my knees and skinning my palms.
‘Should have let me catch you,’ observed Glenn from the top of the fence, leaping down beside me.
‘Smart-arse.’
I hesitated, wondering if it was the right time to speak to him about his imaginary daughter. But didn’t have the heart. I needed to think of how exactly to tackle it because it could blow up in my face. If Glenn felt embarrassed, he might just turn his back on me. And that was something I couldn’t face at the moment.
We said our farewells, then drove off in single file, me following behind Glenn. I couldn’t help once again thanking my lucky stars that he had come into my life. Off we went, chasing up yet another half-baked idea. I ignored the helplessness and doubts stifling me, told myself that each failure must bring me closer to the right track eventually. I was probably fooling myself, I thought, but it was better than giving up.
Sixty-One
BETH
FRIDAY 11 DECEMBER
The café’s sign read ‘closed’, but Beth tried the door anyway. Her mum had sent her out on an urgent mission to buy her Auntie Tricia a birthday card. Mum always forgot her birthday until the last minute, too busy preparing for Christmas. Beth had actually been sent to the Picky Person’s Pop In, but she thought their cards were a bit cheap and rubbish. Seagull’s Outlook Café had recently started selling some lovely cards, though. A bit expensive, but handmade and really different, and she was sure Ursula Clarke wouldn’t mind her daughter’s best friend nipping over after closing time.
Mrs Clarke must only just have shut up shop, anyway. It was only a minute or so after 4.30 p.m. ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’ still blasted out over the speakers – which was a bit unusual, as Beth knew that Chloe’s mum usually preferred to have background music only.
‘Hello?’ Beth called.
No reply. She moved, hesitantly, further into the café, suddenly feeling like a trespasser. Well, if there was no one around, she would take a card and leave the money along with a note explaining. As she moved over to the stand, she heard a grunt, followed by moaning.
It had come from the kitchen.
‘Mrs Clarke? Are you okay?’ called Beth.
What if something had happened to her? Perhaps she had fallen. As the teenager hurried round the counter, Mrs Clarke appeared. Dishevelled, not her usual pristine self. Her hair stuck up at the back and her blouse buttons were undone one more than decency demanded.
‘Beth! What on earth are you doing here?’
‘I just wanted a birthday card. Umm, are you okay? Have you hurt yourself?’
‘Hurt… ? No, I’m fine. Fine.’
A cough came from the kitchen. Beth’s face flamed scarlet as she realised what she had stumbled on. Mr and Mrs Clarke were at it!
‘I’m sorry, I’ll go.’ She backed away. Then her eyes fell on a jacket. Not the kind of jacket Mr Clarke, a solicitor in Wapentake, would wear. He wore smart three-quarter-length coats over his suits. This was the type of waxed jacket favoured by the farmers in the area.
Mrs Clarke was having an affair.
Shit, shit, shit!
Beth never swore, but this was definitely a sweary moment. Mrs Clarke seemed to realise it too.
‘This is grown-up business, and not something you should get involved in. If anyone were to find out, people could get hurt. You wouldn’t want people to get hurt, would you, Beth?’
The look on her face was so strange when she said it. Like a crazy woman.
Beth thought of her best friend. She came across as confident, cocky even, but Beth knew that beneath the bluff and bluster hid surprising fragility. There was no way she wanted to share this news with Chloe.
‘You know you can trust me, Mrs Clarke. I… I haven’t breathed a word of our other secret.’
‘Well, yes. You really haven’t told anyone, have you?’
Beth shook her head.
‘And you won’t tell anyone about this, either?’
Another shake.
‘Not even your parents?’
‘No, not even my parents.’
But she wanted to. As she walked away, she chewed on her thumbnail, scared that Mrs Clarke could tell.
Sixty-Two
At just gone 1 p.m., I got home. Odd; my parents’ Escort was parked on the road outside – they must have come straight from being with you at the hospital. Your dad’s Subaru was in the drive too. Something must have happened to you, Beth. The knowledge poleaxed me. It was my fault; I had spoken aloud my fear that you might never wake up, and tempted fate. Now it was coming true.
My legs shook as I clambered from my own vehicle, almost falling, and I feared I would be sick. The key trembled in my fingers, refusing to slide into the lock. It took a couple of goes before I succeeded.
Mum and Dad were sitting on the sofa with Jacob. They looked sombre. My heart thudded.
‘Sit down, duck,’ began Dad.
‘Oh God, no. No. No, no, no!’ I backed away, shaking my head, tears spilling.
‘Hey, hey, what’s happened? It’s okay,’ soothed Jacob, jumping up. He hugged me.