The dark room, p.23
The Dark Room, page 23
Ava sipped her tea, her hand shaking. ‘She loved music, she had the radio blaring in her room the whole time, had this Walkman she wouldn’t leave the house without. She read all the magazines, Mizz and Just Seventeen and Smash Hits – she left them all over the house, but they were so expensive. She did any job she could to save up for them, worked weekends in Mahony’s and evenings in the pub, cleaned the holiday lets in the summer. She was saving up to go to London, she wanted to be a singer. Everyone said she had a gorgeous voice, she sang in the choir for years. I don’t know where she got it from, I haven’t a note.’
Ava stared into her tea, frowning. ‘She always had it easy at school, got good grades without having to work at all – unlike me – but art was her favourite subject. I always thought she might go into fashion design. She used to make her own clothes, long skirts and denim jackets with embroidery and sequins all over them. Whenever she went up to Dublin she’d look in all the vintage shops for buttons and braid and clothes she could customise. That’s where she found her watch. It was a bit like yours –’ she indicated the Aviator on Rachel’s wrist – ‘a man’s watch, but she made this really colourful strap for it, she never took it off.’ Ava sighed deeply, her eyes filling again. ‘We used to fight like cat and dog but she was my sister.’ She cleared her throat. ‘When will they know who the body is?’
Caroline took a deep breath. ‘I’ve no idea. They still have the stable yard blocked off so they may not have even finished looking yet. It could be a while.’
All sorts of thoughts were careering through Caroline’s head. What had made Meg leave and not tell anyone where she was? Had she started chatting to someone in one of the vintage shops, someone she thought was a kindred spirit? Had they promised her the sun, moon and stars if she came to London with them, that they could help her follow her dream? Caroline felt the hairs standing up on the back of her neck. From what Ava was saying, Meg was ambitious and focused. Ireland had changed a lot in the nineties, but London was still the place you had to go if you wanted to make it.
‘It really is going to drag it all up again, isn’t it? It doesn’t matter that she’s been in touch, the press just wants a good scandal. There was so much muck printed that was just nonsense.’ She sounded bitter. ‘The landlord at the Spaniard fancied his chances, and then when the media came sniffing around he thought he’d have his fifteen minutes of fame because she’d worked for him. He gave photos of her to The Sun and some other rag, and then his ex weighed in, saying Meg was a flirt and the media created the whole story. Chinese whispers. It really didn’t help – everyone was talking about her being a slut and not concentrating on what had actually happened to her.’
Caroline bit her lip. ‘I can see why you aren’t comfortable with the media.’
Ava took a deep breath as she spoke. ‘Some reporter came sniffing around, pretending they were on holiday and had got lost. They asked all these questions. I didn’t realise until they’d gone what was happening, what they were really after. So then when you came and John Francis said you worked for a newspaper, I thought that’s what you were doing too.’ She paused. ‘I agreed to do the workshop so I could find out and put you straight. Dear God, Mary O’Connor’s been in touch every five minutes telling me about this reconstruction, and RTÉ. It’s like she’s got no one else to talk to.’ Ava took a sip of her tea. ‘I don’t want Meg’s name dragged up again.’
Chapter 45
RACHEL’S BOOTS CRUNCHED on the shingle as she walked across the beach, one eye on Jasper and one on Caroline.
‘You really should have brought wellies.’
Caroline looked over at her, shaking her head, a smile creeping on to her face.
‘I told you, I don’t own wellies.’
Rachel tutted. ‘Everyone has wellies, how can you be Irish and not have wellies? Just be careful, if the salt water gets onto those leather boots it’ll leave a line when they dry out. They’ll be ruined.’
‘I’m good. I’ll just stay up above the tideline, you can get wet.’
‘Thanks a million.’ Rachel bent down to pick up a piece of driftwood for Jasper, who was dancing up and down the beach, playing with the waves, then glanced back at Caroline. ‘Do you think Ava will be okay?’
‘Honestly, no – at least not until she gets proper news from Meg. She can’t move on until she has some sort of closure on why she went. I can understand that, I’d be the same.’
‘That’s how Hunter feels about Alfie.’ Rachel looked down the estuary. The sky was an incredible blue, washed clean after the rain. She could imagine how wonderful this area was in the summer. ‘I could stay here all day, wandering – just listen, there are just so many birds.’
Caroline didn’t answer. Rachel glanced back at her. She’d stopped walking, had her hands in her pockets and was staring down the estuary out to sea, deep in thought.
‘A penny for them.’
‘Oh, sorry.’ Caroline suddenly realised she was being spoken to. ‘I was thinking.’
‘Yes, I could see that.’ Rachel rolled her hands. ‘About …?’
‘My boss actually. Greta. About this whole lawsuit thing and her not backing me. You know, that just doesn’t happen in my job – it can’t, or the machine stops working. The press has to be able to report the news, the truth, without comment or interference. We’re like the thin black line that keeps the bad people at bay. I know there’s lots of different shades of reporting – the sensationalist tabloid stuff Ava was talking about doesn’t serve any useful purpose, but … Anyway, I’m still trying to work out why Greta took the stance she did.’
‘And have you? Worked it out, I mean?’
Caroline bit her lip. ‘Maybe. I need some more information. I need to send an email on the way home if you don’t mind stopping. I should be able to pick up the Wi-Fi in the cafe from the car, so we don’t have to go in if you don’t want to.’
‘I think I’d like to keep a low profile today. I’m not sure I’m ready for questions – not that we have any answers, but people don’t understand that. But sorry, go on.’
‘So, here’s the thing. Greta is a bitch, she’s always been a bitch, but usually she’s a fair bitch. I mean, she has a tough job – she’s got all the trimmings but she really does put the hours in.’ Caroline teased the stones at the tideline with the toe of her boot. ‘We’ve never got on particularly well. Tim, he’s the colleague I mentioned – the company lawyer – reckons it’s because I’m twenty years younger than she is and she can see herself in me.’ She shook her head. ‘Nonsense, probably. But he said something changed at the Christmas party.’ She looked thoughtful for a minute and then added quickly, ‘It wasn’t at Christmas, it was right at the start of December, we always do it early.’
‘What did you do – spill your wine on her?’
‘Well, that’s the thing, I wasn’t even at it.’
Rachel looked at her, puzzled. ‘So what changed?’
‘That’s what I’ve been trying to work out. I asked Tim to send me all the photos he could find of the night, so I could see who was talking to who. That’s what I was going through last night while you were on coffee duty.’
‘Did you see anything? Anyone under the mistletoe who shouldn’t have been?’
Caroline frowned. ‘It was more who wasn’t under the mistletoe, actually.’ She moved the stones around again with her foot. ‘The Christmas party is the big one each year. The date is set in stone and everyone knows about it from about September. We go somewhere really fancy and it’s a sort of tradition, it’s a bonding experience. Everyone brings their partners, so it’s a chance for them to meet the people their spouses get to spend the night with when they’re not with them.’
Nodding, Rachel turned to see where Jasper had disappeared to; she couldn’t see him.
‘Come on, walk and talk so we can keep up with Jasp.’
Rachel walked up towards the tideline, her feet slipping on the shingle and Caroline fell into step beside her as she prompted: ‘So, fancy party …’
‘Yes, sorry. So, fancy party – an opportunity to get dressed up, out of the jeans or the suit. Nice night, everyone goes.’
‘But you didn’t.’
‘No. I’ve been working this story about people trafficking, illegal migrants being forced to work all hours for nothing. It’s been trailing on for months. The traffickers are very good, every time I think I’m close, they slip away.’
‘Like Nemo Freight – till now.’
‘Exactly. So, the night of the Christmas party I get a tip-off that some illegals are being moved to a 7–Eleven downtown. I’ve been on this story for months. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity, so I had to bail on the party. I use this freelance photographer, Joni. We spent most of the night playing cards in her car. About two o’clock I reckoned there was nothing happening so we split. I went home.’
‘And this is significant, how?’
‘When I went through the photos of the party, I wasn’t the only person missing. Clive, Greta’s husband, wasn’t there, and nor was Nancy – at least not for the whole night.’
‘Nancy?’
‘My arch-nemesis in news. She’s flying up the tree right behind me and I don’t trust her, to be honest. She’s been promoted really fast and she’s good, but she’s not that good.’
‘So you think something’s happening, between Nancy and this Clive?’
Caroline raised her eyebrows. ‘She’s gorgeous.’
‘I’m playing devil’s advocate here, but being gorgeous doesn’t seem to be quite enough of a reason to suspect she’s having an affair with your editor’s husband.’
‘Well, that’s the thing. He’s actually her boss – Greta’s, I mean. He’s her husband, but he also owns the paper. And he has a bit of a history, if gossip can be believed. But it really doesn’t matter what I think. It’s Greta that’s the problem. There’s a picture of Nancy talking to her early in the evening, so Greta thinks she was there, but I can’t see any pictures of Nancy later on, not even in the background of other people’s shots.’
‘You’re still lacking a bit of evidence there.’
‘I know, it’s entirely supposition. That’s why I need to email Tim. I want him to try to remember if he saw her later in the evening. He’s on this health kick and isn’t drinking, so he was probably the only person who was sober.’ Caroline screwed up her face, deep in thought. ‘The thing is, Nancy’s been working this big secret case for about three months and keeps disappearing from the office.’ Caroline looked over at Rachel. ‘I know this sounds mad, but I think I was set up with the story about the 7–Eleven so I didn’t go to the party. Nancy gave me the lead – it was handed in at the front desk apparently, a note on a piece of paper. I think she knew Clive wasn’t going, and she wanted to make it look like he was having an affair with me, when actually she spent the evening with him.’
‘Isn’t that very complicated? You’ve got your photographer as a witness to where you were.’
‘Nancy wouldn’t have known I’d call Joni in, and Greta’s not the cops – there’s no reason for me to tell her who I was with, or for her to ask.’
‘I suppose so, but it’s bit of a strange night to choose.’
‘I agree one hundred per cent, but it’s very Nancy – she’s got such a convoluted mind. And when you think about it, it’s the only night where it would have been obvious to Greta that I wasn’t there. And if Greta was a bit suspicious, she only needed to hear a few choice words that would implant the suggestion that it was me who was seeing Clive, not Nancy.’
‘Nasty. But you can’t prove it?’
‘Probably not, but I can get Tim to drop into the conversation that I spent that night with Joni in a parking lot and see what happens.’
‘I’m not seeing how that gets you off the hook with this lawsuit?’
‘It doesn’t, but that’s not so much the problem. I can prove my every move with Rich Slater. I know a court is going to laugh in his face – but Greta not backing me is much bigger. It raises questions about my competence, about whether I can do my job. And I have a feeling the next stop could be her firing me. That couldn’t happen here, but it happens in the States all the time, the employment law is totally different. The thing is, it’s my professional reputation on the line.’
‘Which is the type of revenge you want to get on your husband’s mistress.’
‘Precisely. She’s never going to call him out because he holds the purse strings, but she must have been dropping hints or something, implying she knew he was up to something. I’m guessing he told Nancy she was suspicious, and I was the solution. Two birds, one stone. Nancy gets the guy and my job as head of the department.’
‘And your friend Tim can help you sort it out?’
‘I hope so. I really hope so.’
Chapter 46
EMERGING FROM THE tree-shrouded lane, Rachel pulled into the drive at Hare’s Landing, the wheels crunching on the gravel. A brand-new navy-blue Mercedes E-Class saloon was parked beside the hares guarding the front door, its sides flecked with mud where it had been driven down the lane from the main road. From the angle of the splatter, it looked like it had been going pretty fast.
‘Oh God, somebody’s arrived – do you think there might be more guests? I need to hose Jasper down – but the hose is in the stable yard.’ Rachel hauled on the handbrake and, screwing up her face, slapped her forehead. ‘I should have thought of that before I let him go after that seagull on the beach. I’m sure it’s still sealed off.’
Caroline looked out at the car speculatively. ‘I wouldn’t worry. Bronagh can’t take in anyone new, not with the plumbing the way it is and the stables cordoned off as a crime scene. And I’m sure there’s another hose somewhere. Conor will know if he’s here.’ She looked at the car curiously. ‘It looks like a hire car. Perhaps it’s someone who called in on spec? I’ve never seen a reporter in a new Merc, so I think we can assume it’s not press. No journalist gets paid enough to drive a fancy car, not a new one anyway.’
Rachel swung open her door and flipped her seat forward to let Jasper out, grabbing his collar.
‘Sorry, old boy, we need to get you a bit cleaner before you can go anywhere near the public.’ Caroline got out of the other side as she continued. ‘I’d better take him around by the stables and see if the guards will let us in to use the hose. It’s on this corner beside the entrance, well downwind of the septic tank so I don’t think there’d be any problem with the water running into it.’
‘Tell you what, why don’t I do that? Malachi might still be here. I can say hi.’
Rachel laughed. ‘Do I guess from that tone that you don’t want me tagging along? Wouldn’t it just be easier if we asked him over for dinner?’
Caroline looked as if she was thinking about the idea.
‘I don’t really want to put him off with my cooking this soon. He already thinks I’m a total eejit for not reporting the graffiti artist in my bedroom.’
Rachel came around the back of the Land Rover.
‘I’m sure he doesn’t.’ She held out Jasper’s lead. ‘Here.’
Caroline grabbed the lead from her and clipped it on Jasper’s collar. Obviously thinking she was taking him for a walk, he jumped up excitedly, pawing at her parka with wet sandy feet.
‘You’d better be quick or that coat will be ruined.’
Caroline dusted herself off. ‘It’s fine, just a bit of sand.’
Rachel laughed. ‘On a $500 coat. Totally fine. Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’ll order you a coffee. You might need it.’ She leaned in through the passenger door to haul her backpack out of the rear seat. ‘Will I take your bag in? You really don’t want to get that wet, it’s far too good.’
‘That would be great. Wish me luck.’
Waving theatrically, Caroline disappeared around the side of the house to walk down to the stable yard entrance, Jasper trotting beside her.
As Rachel pulled the front door open and stepped into the porch, she could see that there was a man in reception. He looked like he was in his early fifties, heavily built, wearing a navy pinstripe suit with a sky blue shirt and navy tie. Rachel couldn’t work out what the design was on his tie from this distance, but it seemed to be a club crest of some sort.
Standing right in the middle of the hall, he was glaring at whoever was behind the reception desk, impatiently jiggling the change in his trouser pocket. He turned to Rachel as she pushed open the inner door, scowling as he looked her up and down, no doubt noting her mucky wellies and the splashes of mud on her jeans. Rachel raised an eyebrow and looked right back at him. She was about to speak when she heard Imogen’s voice.
‘I’m really sorry, I’ve checked and we don’t have any rooms available right now. I’m so sorry.’
‘But it’s January – the place must be empty.’ He sounded British, with a full-on public-school accent that came with its own sense of superiority and entitlement. The impatience in his voice was thinly disguised.
‘I’m afraid we’re in the middle of renovations. All our available rooms are taken. Will I try Ross Haven for you? Did you say you were visiting someone there?’
‘Yes, at the hospital.’
Rachel’s ears pricked up. She put her own and Caroline’s bags down beside the reception counter and unwrapped her scarf, dropping it on the top before unzipping her skiing jacket. Trying to defuse the tension, she kept her tone upbeat and practical.
‘At least the weather’s improved for your visit. It’s so lovely to see the sun after all that rain.’
The man obviously didn’t think she was talking to him as he continued to glare at Imogen. She’d slipped on a navy jacket over her white shirt and looked very smart and capable behind the desk. From the empty coffee cups Rachel could just see under the lip of the counter, it looked like she’d been there all day. She’d probably been fielding phone calls and curious passers-by since she’d arrived. Rachel was sure half the village had found a reason to drop in once word had spread about the Garda operation on the septic tank.
