The deception, p.17
The Deception, page 17
‘Best try to eat something. These things can take time.’ She placed the coffee on the edge of the sink and turned to leave, locking the door behind her. Was it lunchtime, Rosie wondered? She didn’t think she could possibly eat although reason told her to try. She’d had no breakfast and being faint with hunger wouldn’t help her mood. Was Mike still here? Was he also eating a stale sandwich and drinking weak coffee?
Mike’s experience at the Bedale, Wycar Street police station mirrored that of his wife’s. His interview followed on from Rosie’s which gave him extra time with Ian Preston, valuable time which the solicitor used to fully acquaint himself with the events of the last couple of weeks. For Mike, recalling recent goings-on was painful yet simultaneously a release and he discovered Preston to be a good listener and quick to grasp the facts.
When DI Harris and DS Russell were finally ready to interview him, Mike was well briefed and knew to answer ‘no comment’ to all the questions however angry or frustrated they made him feel. The suggestion that Rosie had recruited his help to lure Stokes to the woods for her to kill was particularly hard to stomach – were the detectives deliberately trying to provoke him? But he replied as instructed, attempting to let them know how he felt by the glares he directed their way.
The whole idea was preposterous, ludicrous, and he longed to tell them precisely what he thought of their speculation, yet even though the two men had only just met, Mike trusted this solicitor and accepted Ian’s advice to do things by the book. Mike was confident of his and his wife’s innocence and mentally held on to that knowledge, trusting that truth would prevail. One day they would look back on this experience as history, a bump in the road of their life together.
Mike’s primary concern was how Rosie was holding up. Knowing the tragedies of her past, he feared this would be too much for her to bear. He’d asked Ian Preston if there was a chance he’d be allowed to see her and was unsurprised by the negative answer.
Seven hours after the couple were arrested, they were released. Their solicitors worked hard to arrange bail and after a day Rosie and Mike thought would never end, Stuart finally drove them home.
As the car pulled up outside Hilltop Cottage, Mary opened the door, her arms open wide to embrace her son and daughter-in-law.
‘Noah?’ Rosie could say no more.
‘He’s in the lounge, love, don’t worry. He’s been fine today but he’ll be happy to see you both.’
Rosie ran straight to him and lifted her son from his bouncing chair, holding him close and breathing in his distinctive baby scent. Noah gurgled and smiled, delighted to see his mother and blissfully unaware of the horrendous day she’d endured. She clung to his warm little body trying not to let him see her tears and Mike joined them, stroking Noah’s face and smiling at his son.
Mary had followed her into the house. ‘I was just going to bathe him,’ she said.
‘I’ll do it!’ Rosie whisked her son upstairs to run his bath and change him into his pyjamas, driven by a need to be alone with him, to lose herself in a world where only she and Noah existed.
Stuart followed the couple into the house where Mary offered coffee which he accepted gratefully. It had been a long day for him too. Still wearing his professional hat, he wanted to talk briefly to his clients before leaving them for the night and was happy to wait until Rosie joined them again, understanding the effects of their ordeal.
When Noah was asleep in his cot and Rosie returned downstairs, Stuart attempted to prepare them for what would happen in the next stage of the investigation.
‘It’s going to be a waiting game, I’m afraid. There does appear to be solid evidence for the CPS to proceed with the charges – namely the knife and your jacket, Rosie. Now they have your fingerprints there’s little doubt they’ll be on the knife too, which we can explain but they will view as more evidence. The police are still investigating and I’m hopeful they’ll discover the truth of what really happened to Mr Stokes. As part of your bail conditions, I’ve given an undertaking that you’ll not leave the area and I need to take your passports back to the police station. Perhaps I can have them now?’
Mike jumped up and went to the dresser to find them. It was a small price to pay to allow them their freedom until this whole debacle was cleared up. He handed the passports to Stuart and after further reassurances and instructions, the solicitor left. The occupants of Hilltop Cottage breathed a collective sigh of relief.
It was 8pm. Mary passed on a message from Bella who’d rung to offer any support she could, a message which received only the briefest of nods from Rosie. Jim was full of questions about their day but she couldn’t face further interrogation and with a few brief words of thanks, excused herself and went up to bed.
‘Rosie?’ Mike was startled by his wife’s apparent rudeness.
Mary put her hand on Mike’s arm to stop him from following her upstairs. ‘Leave her, son. She’s all washed out after such a gruelling day.’
Mike’s face crumpled as he spoke. ‘She’s hardly spoken since they let us go – even in the car she wouldn’t accept any comfort and pulled away from me when I tried to hold her.’
‘We all have our ways of coping and maybe this is Rosie’s. Give her time. She’ll come round when she’s ready. Now what about you? Would it help to talk, or would you rather not?’
Mike’s reply was to go over every detail of the interview, the words tumbling quickly from his mouth as if he needed to be rid of them, to spit them out. His parents listened silently and kept their concerns to themselves. None of them could remember a bleaker day.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Rosie was already up, showered and dressed when Mary came down the following morning, with a full coffee pot waiting for the others. Rosie’s body stiffened as Mary reached out to hug her. The older woman stepped away and smiled. ‘Good morning. Can I help with breakfast?’
‘Yes please. If you don’t mind making something for yourselves and Mike, I’ll see to Noah.’ Rosie’s voice was small, uncertain and she almost ran from the kitchen and up the stairs to wake Noah.
When the men came downstairs they ate quickly, planning an early start to what would be a full day. After he’d finished eating, Mike went upstairs to find Rosie and returned in a matter of minutes, rolling his eyes at his mother.
‘She’s barely speaking to me, as if it’s my fault.’
‘No, she doesn’t think that, I’m sure. Just give her time. I’ll try to talk to her today.’ Mary gave Jim a huge parcel of sandwiches, far more than they could eat and said goodbye to them as they left the cottage. She then cleared the dishes and tidied around with still no sign of Rosie although she could hear Noah upstairs.
Eventually Rosie did appear with a hungry Noah demanding his breakfast.
‘Would you like me to feed him or shall I leave you to it?’ Mary asked gently.
Rosie’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Don’t be nice to me, Mary. I don’t deserve it!’ A fat tear rolled down her cheek. ‘I’ve brought this upon you all – Frank Stokes came looking for me – it’s all my fault and I’m so sorry!’
‘No one’s to blame here – it is what it is, but one day it will pass, I promise you. For now you have to stay strong for this little man and for Mike. Let me feed Noah while you eat something – if you won’t look after yourself, at least let me care for you.’
Rosie allowed Mary to take Noah and feed him while she nibbled at some cold toast left on the table by the men. They sat around the kitchen table mostly in silence, speaking only to Noah, encouraging him to take pureed fruit from a spoon before he happily sucked on his bottle.
As if sensing his mistress’s mood, Ben crept under the table and rested his chin on Rosie’s knee, a little whine earning him a tickle on his ears.
When Noah finished his bottle Mary asked, ‘Would you like me to take Noah out while you have a rest, or a soak in the bath, perhaps?’
‘Thanks, I’d like that, but only for an hour or so? I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep, though maybe a long bath will help.’
‘Of course. Is there anything you’d like me to pick up in the village?’
‘No, the freezer’s full – there’s plenty of food to last a month.’ She kissed Noah on his head and returned upstairs.
After hearing Mary leave the cottage, Rosie ran the bath and eased her aching limbs into the scented water. Sleep had eluded her again, her mind working overtime reliving the day at the police station, going over and over the questions they’d asked and trying to make sense of the evidence the police had gathered. During the interview and subsequent hours in the cell, Rosie was tense; her body wound tightly, unable to relax. Now her shoulders ached and her head throbbed. She knew Mary was right and she must take care of herself yet part of her wanted only to curl up in a ball and disappear.
It was as if the nightmare of Alison’s death was returning and even worse if possible – this time, Rosie was accused of being a murderer. Would they also charge her with Alison’s death – it seemed a strong possibility.
Still unable to relax even in the warmth of the bath, Rosie’s mind travelled to some very dark places; revisiting Ali’s awful last day, Gary Drake’s despicable actions and now Frank Stokes’s murder.
It would be so easy to slip beneath the water, to let its warmth engulf me and sink into oblivion, to escape from this nightmare and find release! Can I do it? Is it even possible, or would my lungs demand oxygen, physical need trumping the desire to die?
Rosie’s thoughts were interrupted by the phone ringing, the landline downstairs. Her eyes shot open and she was immediately horrified at the shadowy thoughts she’d entertained. Jumping out of the bath she grabbed her robe and hurried downstairs, seizing the phone with wet hands.
‘Hello?’ She sniffed, wiping her face with the back of her hand.
‘Hi, sweetheart! How are you holding up?’ Bella’s voice sounded like honey. So welcome, so timely – how timely her friend would never know.
‘Oh, Bella, it’s you!’ Rosie could say little more, she was so overcome with emotion.
‘Is it a bad time? You sound rather funny. I can call back later?’
‘No, it’s fine. Perfect timing except that I’ve just got out of the bath.’ She almost laughed, her heart was pounding and it felt as if something was bubbling up inside her chest; was she verging on hysteria?
‘Are you dressed?’
‘No, but don’t go. It’s lovely to hear your voice. Have you spoken to Stuart?’
‘Yes and he’s so wired, determined to get to the bottom of this. He said it was quite an ordeal yesterday. Have you recovered?’
‘I’m getting there, thanks. Stuart was great and I really appreciate how hard he’s working for us. Perhaps I didn’t thank him properly last night. I was a bit out of it. Will you pass on my gratitude?’
‘Sure will. It’s become personal for him now. Be assured he’ll work his socks off for you. And how’s that lovely little boy of yours and Mike too?’
‘They’re fine. Mary and Jim are still with us. I hate to think what would have happened if they hadn’t been here when the police came. They had a social worker with them and were going to take him away!’
‘I know and if ever anything like that happens again, which hopefully it won’t, you must ring me. I’ll drop everything and come. Don’t ever feel you can’t call on me – I’m working fewer hours in The Pantry these days, there are plenty of others to cover – promise me you’ll ring if you need me?’
‘I will, and thanks, you don’t know how much that means to me.’
The women chatted for a while longer and ended the call when Mary arrived home with Noah.
‘We’ve had a lovely walk. The weather’s holding well for September and I think it’s done us both good. Now, did you enjoy your soak?’
‘Lovely thanks,’ Rosie lied. ‘That was Bella on the phone checking up on me. I do feel much better now.’ She kissed a sleeping Noah and went upstairs to dress.
It was time to get her act together – to pull herself together for the sake of her family. She’d survived trauma before and would do so again. This time she had even more to fight for.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Rosie thought the ringing was in her dreams, yet the noise persisted, pulling her out of sleep, bringing awareness of Mike jumping from the bed and dashing downstairs to answer the phone. She switched on the lamp and checked the clock – 4am. Who could be ringing at this hour?
Making her way downstairs, Rosie heard Jim go into the bathroom, disturbed no doubt by the phone. Fortunately, Noah hadn’t woken. Mike sounded unusually animated, almost shouting as she caught the tail end of his words, ‘I’m on my way!’
‘What’s happened?’
‘The market garden’s on fire, look!’ He was already at the window tugging back the curtains. An orange glow was visible in the distance and they heard sirens disturbing the silence of the night.
‘No!’ But Rosie could see for herself as red and orange flames leapt into the darkness framing the rooftops of the houses.
‘That was your friend, Chrissie. She heard glass shattering and looked out of her window to see the fire. She called the fire service who’re just arriving by the sound of it. I’ve got to get down there! How the hell it caught fire I have no idea, there’s nothing flammable to ignite except a couple of cans of petrol, but they’re locked away in the shed!’
Jim appeared at their side and gasped as he saw the flames. ‘What the hell…’
‘It’s the garden, Dad! The bloody place is on fire!’
‘I’ll come with you.’ Jim turned and rushed back upstairs to dress, his face grey, a reflection of his son’s. Mike followed, passing Mary on her way down, woken by the commotion.
‘Rosie, what is it?’ she asked.
‘The market garden’s on fire, look!’
Mary joined Rosie at the window to see the flames leaping into the air, illuminating the whole village. Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘No! How did that happen?’
‘I don’t know. The call was from Chrissie at the bakery; she called the fire service first, then us. Oh, Mary, what’s happening? It’s as if everything’s conspiring against us. What have we done to deserve this?’ Rosie was shocked and upset. A fire was the last thing they needed and she couldn’t begin to imagine how it had happened – Mike was always so careful and kept only a small amount of petrol for the van and the generator he used to heat the greenhouses. As the generator wasn’t in use at this time of year his petrol stock would be minimal and he always locked it away in a brick outhouse.
Dressed in record time, the two men dashed out the door with a shouted goodbye. Rosie called after her husband to ring when he had news yet her words went unheard, lost in the sound of the slamming door. He’d surely ring anyway when he had the chance.
It was a waiting game for the women while father and son drove wildly through the village, well-lit with lights in most houses and faces at windows straining to see what was happening. Three fire appliances were in attendance, sirens stilled, their engines and crew working hard to get the blaze under control.
‘Stand back, please, sir!’ A firefighter blocked Mike’s way as he hurried to get as close as possible.
‘I own the bloody place!’
‘Right, but it’s not safe to come any further. Stand over there, please, and let us do our job. The station officer will want to speak to you in a minute.’ The man moved away and spoke to a colleague who came over to question him.
The man was sweating already, his face glowing in the light from the fire. ‘What chemicals are on site, sir?’
‘None! It’s an organic garden. The only flammables are a couple of cans of petrol which are locked in the shed over there.’ Mike pointed to the outhouse where they could see the padlock still in place even from where they stood. The station officer nodded and went back to his crew.
Jim shouted to make himself heard. ‘There’s a strong smell of petrol from somewhere, son.’
Lisa appeared beside the two men, clearly shocked by the sight which greeted her. ‘Mike! What’s going on? I heard glass breaking – oh, no – the greenhouses! They’re destroyed!’
Nearly every pane of glass had blown out with the heat and beyond them they could see a shrivelled mass which had been two of the polytunnels. Unable to get through the gates they couldn’t see the other tunnels yet presumed they’d suffered the same fate. The wooden tool shed and the lean-to were both burned to the ground, presumably the flames Mike saw from home were from them.
Lisa almost shouted into Mike’s ear. ‘How the hell did it happen?’
‘I don’t know, they haven’t had time to talk to me yet but it must be deliberate. There’s nothing here to start such a huge fire.’ As he verbalised the words, they hit Mike hard. An electrical fire would almost certainly be contained in the shed they used as an office and as he’d told the station officer, there was little else on the premises to start such a significant blaze. It was heartbreaking to stand by helplessly and watch his dream literally go up in smoke.
‘Oh, Mike! I’m so sorry!’ Lisa clung to his arm, tears glistening on her cheeks.
It wasn’t long before a small group of onlookers gathered, a few approaching them with expressions of sympathy and the odd offer of help; most simply gawping at the spectacle, then leaving to chew over the event and speculate as to how it had occurred.
From what they could see, the fire appeared to stretch over the vegetable plots. With nothing more solid than the crops themselves it was a sure indication that an accelerant had started the blaze. The flames were quickly extinguished, however, the firefighters used foam to bring the fire under control and Mike grimaced thinking of the effects on the soil. Moving to one side, he took out his phone to call Rosie and hurriedly explained what was happening, promising to fill in the details when he went home. Words failed him but he knew his wife and mother would still be awake later.
