The Lies Within Page 17

  “Sorry I’m a bit late,” Faye said as Grace pulled the door open. “Stopped off to get us something nice.” She held up a box of fresh cream cakes. “Hope that’s okay?”

  Grace felt an oozing of calm as she returned her smile. “Perfect.” She stood aside and waited while Faye shrugged off her coat to reveal a pair of black jeans, a long loose jumper and a purple checked scarf.

  “Another lovely scarf,” Grace said.

  “Heart Foundation.” Faye ran the fingers of her free hand across it. “I’m always in the charity shops. I’ll have to take you shopping.” She bent down to stroke Lucky. “Is your leak fixed?”

  Grace looked up at the ceiling as they moved into the kitchen. “He’s mended the pipe. We caught it early so luckily there’s not too much damage. We just have to let the ceiling dry out before we can paint it.”

  It wasn’t long before Grace had made tea and they’d tucked into the cakes. The conversation was light and effortless. Faye talked about a man singing Irish songs on the bus on the way over. “An elderly woman joined in, and then so did the bus driver! It was hilarious.”

  Grace found herself giggling like a teenager. “Was he drunk?”

  “I don’t think so. Well I hope the driver wasn’t!” They both laughed.

  Faye licked the cream off her fingers. “You have a lovely house.”

  “Thanks,” Grace said. She gathered up the empty box and placed it in the bin. “I could show you around if you want?”

  “Oh, yes please.”

  Grace felt a sense of pride as they moved from room to room. She’d worked hard to transform the house after Jamie died and it was lovely to show off her efforts. Faye admired her curtains and soft furnishings and talked through her own ideas for renovating her father’s bungalow. Any notion of awkwardness faded as the two women wandered around chatting.

  “You’re very creative,” Faye said as they entered the master bedroom. Grace’s eyes were drawn to the watermark on the ceiling. Phil had talked about taking some advice as to how they should erase it, but she’d never really pushed the issue. Something about it was strangely comforting. “Not really. I just read a lot of magazines and pinch the ideas.”

  They hovered outside Lydia’s bedroom and Faye sniggered as she read the sign: Lydia’s room. You’re only welcome if I say so.

  Grace rolled her eyes. “Teenagers’”

  “How old is she?”

  “Fifteen.”

  “Sounds like me at that age,” Faye said, a wistful look in her eyes. “I hated people wandering in and out of my room.”

  They were on the landing now, beside the entrance to Jo’s room.

  “Is this…?”

  Grace nodded.

  “We don’t need to go in there. If you’re not comfortable.”

  Grace hesitated. After the newspaper interview, she’d felt compelled to move back into the master bedroom and it seemed she was the only person who ever went into Jo’s bedroom these days, the others seemed to make a point of avoiding it. Part of her felt it would be nice to share it with someone. “It’s fine.” She clicked open the door.

  The room smelt fresh, thanks to a window left ajar. Grace stood aside, her eyes floating over the array of candles on the windowsill, the posters adorning the walls and books piled on top of the chest of drawers in the corner. The pause lasted several seconds as they drank in Jo’s possessions.

  Faye moved forward and, as she did so, her jumper brushed the windowsill. Something clinked as it dropped on the laminate flooring. She bent down and picked up a signet ring. It glinted in the light as she rose.

  “Oh, thank you,” Grace said as she passed it over. “This was Jo’s. We gave it to her on her thirteenth birthday. I really should put it in my jewellery box for safe keeping.” She slipped it on her finger.

  “Must be lovely to keep a part of her with you,” Faye said softly. Grace nodded. “Have the police still not found the person responsible?”

  “No.”

  Grace bit back tears as Faye brushed her arm. “I’m so sorry.”

  The solemn mood continued as they moved downstairs.

  “Do you mind if I smoke in your garden?” Faye asked.

  “Of course not.”

  Grace switched on the kettle and gazed out of the window while she busied herself making drinks. She watched Faye light up, mesmerised in her own world as she pulled on her cigarette.

  “I’m sorry,” Grace said as Faye came back inside. “I’m gloomy company.” She passed over a steaming mug.

  “You’ve every right to be.”

  They sat in silence as they sipped their tea. Faye’s fingers were folded around her mug, displaying nails that were painted wine red. Grace searched her mind for something to say, to break the morose atmosphere. “I never asked you where you live,” she said eventually.

  “Oh, Fairfax Road. Dad’s old bungalow. It’s a bit run down to be honest. Needs a lot of work. I just haven’t felt like it since Dad passed away. But you’ve given me inspiration, Grace. Your house is so beautiful. I could make it really nice.”

  “Happy to help.”

  “You’ll wish you hadn’t said that!” Faye finished her tea and grabbed her bag. “I’d better get going.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you home?” Grace asked, watching Faye pull on her coat in the hall.

  “No, I like the bus. Don’t want to miss out on all that fun now, do I?” Grace chuckled. “Anyway, I need to get used to this area. I’ve a job interview nearby on Thursday.”

  “Oh, where?”

  “On the industrial estate.” She sniffed. “Admin, that sort of thing. It’ll be strange going back to work after all this time.”

  “Well, call in for another tea or coffee afterwards if you like. I’ll provide the cakes this time.”

  “I might just take you up on that.”

  Chapter Forty

  Jackman spotted Davies waving at him from a table beside the window as he crossed the car park of Stacks Restaurant in Leamington. By the time he’d entered and reached the table, she was holding out her glass of white wine in greeting. “You’re late,” she said.

  He checked his watch. “It’s not yet one o’clock. You’re early.”

  Davies snorted and took a slurp of wine.

  “Drinking at a meeting. I’m sure there’s a rule against that,” he said as he sat and ordered a mineral water.

  “It’s my day off.”

  Jackman gave her a mock look of disdain.

  “John’s picking me up and I have no baby. So, I’m treating myself. That all right with you?”

  “As long as you can handle your drink.”

  Jackman smiled inwardly. He’d missed Davies’ ability to see the funny side of almost any situation. They’d worked together for so many years on the homicide squad at Warwickshire that he could almost predict her answers before she gave them.

  Lunch passed easily. Davies’ singsong Geordie accent made him chuckle as she relayed the gossip from Warwickshire. Jackman passed on dessert, instead opting for coffee. He watched Davies place a huge spoon of cheesecake in her mouth. “Mmm,” she said closing her eyes. “So, what about you?”

  “Well, I’m hoping you’ve got some news for me.”

  She wiped her mouth. “I want the gossip first. What’s happening in Leicestershire?”

  “Not a lot. Got a new Super.”

  “Yes, I heard Taylor’s retired. He’ll be missed. Who replaced him?”

  “Carmela Hanson.”

  Davies’ mouth instantly dropped open. “Not THE Carmela, Queen of training?”

  Jackman suppressed a smile. “The very one.”

  “And?”

  “She seems okay, so far.”

  She pulled back, stared at him a moment. “You’re shagging her.”

  Jackman’s face crumpled. “No.”

  “Well, if you’re not, you should be. That’s some hot totty there. Anything else?”

  “The reason we
met-”

  “You are so boring. And there was me thinking it was my delectable personality.” She dropped the spoon onto an empty plate, reached down, retrieved a file from her bag and handed it over. “Right. Your support group,” she said, the smile slipping from her face. “As you know, attendance averages between six and nine people, depending on the week. Only four of them came forward for interview, plus I got a statement from the group leader, Karen Wakefield. Janus gave me the whole sum of one day to travel to Leicestershire, take all the statements and write them up.”

  “Generous.” Jackman opened the file and leafed through the statements that had been neatly stapled together.

  “Surprising. Anyway, I’m not sure they’ll help you much. All have assorted mental health issues. No intelligence on file about any of them. None of them have a police record. Their statements pretty much follow the same line. Jo attended around six sessions in total. She had anxiety issues, struggled with change and yet was a regular contributor at meetings. No indication she’s forged friendships with any of the members. Not surprising as we’re assuming she rushed off immediately afterwards to catch her train.”

  “Is that it?”

  “Oh, there is one other thing I’m not sure you’re aware of? It’s an all-women group.”

  Jackman turned the meeting over in his mind as he bade farewell to Davies and climbed into his car. Davies had been thorough. He’d get his team to run the group members through the Holmes computer system to check the names against statements back at the office, but he doubted they’d find anything. Everything about Barnes’ profile assessment pointed to a male attacker, probably working alone. The fact that it was an all-women support group certainly didn’t help matters.

  ***

  It was after three when Faye arrived on Thursday afternoon. “How was the interview?” Grace asked as she ushered her in.

  “Don’t ask. The agency messed up on the dates. They tried to fit me in, but the General Manager kept calling me Marie, even though I told him twice my name was Faye, and spoke to me in engineering jargon. I’d no idea what he was talking about.”

  “I’m sorry. And you came all this way.”

  “No worries. I still get to see you, so it’s not all wasted. Just need a smoke first, if you don’t mind?”

  “Of course not, I’ll come with you.”

  The damp air clung to her skin as she moved outside. Grace pulled her cardigan across her chest. She watched longingly as Faye pulled a cigarette out of the packet, lit up and took a long drag.

  “Want one?” Faye said holding it out.

  Grace shook her head.

  “How do you manage to keep your garden looking nice at this time of year?” Faye asked.

  Grace followed her gaze down the lawn. It seemed an odd thing to say when the garden was hardly anything to look at. It was devoid of colour, the grass lacklustre and the trees bare. “My father was a keen gardener,” Grace said. “Mum tried to carry it on after he died, hence the half-hearted attempt, until she passed away a few years ago.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Grace gave a half smile.

  “You’ve been here a long time then?”

  “Almost twenty years. It was our first house. Jamie extended the back, gave us another bedroom and made the kitchen bigger. There didn’t seem any reason to move.”

  “Jamie was your first husband?”

  Grace nodded. “He was a nice man. You’d have liked him.” Grace gave a brief overview of how she’d met and married Phil and their current family set-up. She surprised herself at how easily the words flowed. “And what about you?” she asked eventually. “Married?”

  Faye shook her head. “Divorced. No kids. Left him behind in Manchester.” She pulled a small tin of mints from her pocket and offered them to Grace who took one. They walked back inside and both washed their hands. “No other family?”

  “No, I was an only one. Probably enough for anyone.” She chuckled, wiped her hands with a towel and nodded at a photo of Jo and Lucky, heads pressed against each other, above the dog’s bed. “That’s nice.”

  “Jo insisted I put it there when she went away to university, so that Lucky didn’t forget her.”

  “It’s a lovely picture. Is there still no news?”

  “Nothing.”

  Faye was quiet a moment. “Must be awful for you. The not knowing…” Her voice softened. “You know, if you ever need any help, someone to talk to, outside of the family, my door’s always open.”

  “Thanks,” Grace replied, and felt surprised that she meant it.

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” Faye said, “I got you something.” She reached down for her oversized handbag and pulled out a lilac scarf. The silver thread that ran through it glinted in the light.

  Grace’s eyes widened. “That’s for me?”

  “Yes. It’s not new, but you liked the one I had on the other day so much, when I saw it in the shop window, I thought of you.”

  “Oh, I must give you something towards it.”

  “Don’t be silly.” She waved her away. “It was pennies. Another charity shop gem.”

  Grace wound it around her neck and moved into the hallway, standing in front of the mirror, turning this way and that. The scarf looked a little awkward, not expertly tied like Faye’s, but it instantly brightened the white jumper she was wearing.

  “That colour really suits you,” Faye said, ruffling it.

  Grace was still wearing the scarf when Phil came home later that evening.

  “There’s something different about you,” he said, pecking her on the cheek as she greeted him at the door. He drew back, tipped his head at the scarf. “Is that new?”

  Grace beamed and nodded.

  “It really suits you.”

  “Thanks. Faye bought it for me. A present.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realise you were still in touch.”

  “She’s been around a couple of times since we had coffee. We seem to have a lot in common.”

  Phil stood back, surveying her.

  “What?”

  “It’s good to see you smile.”

  ***

  A few days later, Jackman could feel his mobile buzzing as he pushed open the door to his hotel room. It was a text from Carmela: I need to talk through some issues with you. Can’t do it over the phone. I’m in Warwickshire for a regional meeting all day tomorrow. Let me know if you can meet up for dinner in the evening.

  Jackman re-read the message. Carmela had been out of the office the past couple of days and hadn’t responded to his updates. He wondered why she needed to talk things through. He’d been planning to travel home to Stratford tomorrow and, after a couple of days away, had been looking forward to an evening in with Erik.

  He ran his fingers over the screen. Could do with spending an evening at home. Welcome to join me for a takeaway.

  He pressed send. For a split second, a nagging voice questioned whether inviting Carmela to dinner at his house was a good idea. Although this wasn’t personal, it was work. And she’d visited his house when she’d mentored him last summer, so it’s not like she hadn’t been there before.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Grace paused and watched a clump of wild strawberries, swaying in the light breeze. “It’s too mild for this time of year,” she said.

  Since the job interview, Faye had called around often and the two women had fallen into the rhythm of a friendship. Grace looked forward to Faye’s visits. They were a welcome distraction, filling the void in her day when the house was empty.

  Faye sneezed beside her, grappling with a tissue. “I can’t wait for winter to finally arrive,” she said, “to flush out all those bugs.”

  It was a pleasant afternoon in the local park, the sun squeezing its last rays out of the day through the branches above. The two women ambled around the perimeter while Lucky drifted off into the bushes on her extended lead.

  “Still, it’s nice to be out,” Grace smiled. “How’s your front room
coming along?”

  “All right.” Faye stepped over a puddle. “I’ve painted the red feature wall. Looks really nice. You’ll have to come round and see it when it’s all done.”

  “I’d love that.”

  As they turned a corner, a couple approached with a Jack Russell. Lucky scooted across to meet it, yanking at the lead as it extended to its maximum.

  “Hey!” A man approached, diagonally across the grass. Thick stubble poked out of his chin. Bushy grey hair dipped into his eyes. He looked like he needed a good wash. He blew out puffs of cloud as he drew close. “Faye. Faye Campbell. It is you. You look different!” He extended a hand. “You remember me, don’t you? Richard. Richard Beck.”

  Faye froze. Nobody spoke for a moment. Grace looked from one to another.

  A series of growls in the distance caught their attention. Lucky tugged at the lead pulling a reluctant Grace towards the couple. The growls descended into barks and the dogs leapt at each other.

  “I’ll catch you up,” Faye called after Grace as she rushed forward to retrieve Lucky. By the time she’d calmed the situation, separated the dogs and made her apologies, Faye had re-joined her.

  “Sorry about that,” Grace said. She looked back towards the pathway. The man had gone, but something about him made her uneasy. “Who was that?”

  Faye smoothed down her hair. “An old friend from college.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “To be honest, I barely remembered him. Bit embarrassing really.”

  Grace turned again, but the park was empty. They strolled along. A pair of blackbirds fluttered about on the grass. Grace recalled her own blank face when Faye had introduced herself in the supermarket. “I’m surprised you remembered me,” she said eventually, “especially as we were in different year groups at school.”

  Faye smiled. “Some people stick in your mind.” She kicked a stone, watched it roll to the side of the path. “Do you remember the youth club trip to Wales?” Grace wracked her brains. Vague memories of a cold weekend of sleeping in dormitories danced into her head. “You took the top bunk next to me and we chatted the whole time. Got told off by Amy Sanders for keeping her awake. Mind you, she was a bossy cow.”