A Move to Murder: A Bride's Bay Mystery Page 14

  Tom smiled, his hazel eyes crinkling at the corners. “I think you could safely say that. Yes. It’s the old cliché, how did I ever have time to work? But it’s so true.”

  “That’s why it’s a cliché!”

  “But then it hasn’t been an ordinary, quiet retirement, has it? Burglaries, murder, suspicion.”

  “That’s true.” Gina gazed out of the window at the boats bobbing on the harbour. “You’ve had quite a baptism of fire here. But you think you’ve chosen the right area?”

  “Oh yes. No doubt about that.” Tom wiped his mouth with the linen napkin and put it down. “There’s plenty going on, without the crime! And the coastline is lovely, always something to watch, busy in places, quiet in others. And I’ve made some good friends already.” He frowned and Gina looked at him questioningly.

  “What?”

  “Oh nothing, ignore me” another sip of wine. Gina remained silent, her blue eyes gazing at him curiously and he raised an eyebrow at her and smiled. “Alright! It’s Beth.”

  “Beth?” Gina was startled. “What about her?”

  “I think I may have ruined a good friendship there” ruefully, sighing as he replaced his wine glass.

  “I think you’d better start at the beginning.” Gina was beginning to feel anxious.

  Tom sighed again. “Where to start? We get on so well; have done since we first met. She’s so easy to talk to, such good company, kind and funny. Our walks are so good and we both seem to enjoy them” a sigh “but the other evening she just looked a bit forlorn and I wanted to comfort her. I gave her a kiss, just a peck, but she wasn’t happy.” He fell silent, recalling her stiffness and her white face.

  “What did she say?”

  “Just that she liked her own space, didn’t like people too close. But I’ve seen her hug and kiss you and Carol, it’s obviously just me.”

  Gina was quiet. Tom looked at her. “So it is me, she’s not interested in me, would never be interested in me, is that what you’re saying?”

  Gina looked up at him and caught her breath at the bleak expression in his eyes.

  “Oh Tom” quietly. “You like her, don’t you?”

  “Yes. But it seems it’s not reciprocated.” His mouth twisted.

  Gina struggled to think what to say. She was certainly not going to discuss Beth with him but needed to say something.

  “There’s so much I don’t know about her. Has she been married? Is she divorced, or widowed?”

  Safer ground now, sticks to facts.

  “No, she worked in Bournemouth then moved here when her sister died and she took over looking after Nell.” Keep it simple.

  “So has she ever had anyone special, ever lived with anyone?”

  “No.” Gina shook her head, gazed out of the window at the people strolling past, the boats on the water.

  “But why not?” He wasn’t giving up easily. “She’s lovely, her personality, and to look at. How on earth wasn’t she snapped up?”

  Gina shrugged noncommittally. “I suppose she’s just been busy bringing up Nell.”

  This was difficult.

  Tom sighed. “Well, I may like her, but she’s not interested so that’s that. I just hope we can be friends at least.”

  Gina was in a dilemma. She didn’t want to leave it like that but didn’t want to say too much.

  “Tom, I can’t gossip about Beth, you know that, don’t you?” He nodded. She took a deep breath.

  “Beth does have reasons for not letting people get close. But that’s not to say she wouldn’t like them to.”

  “People? Or me in particular?”

  “You.”

  Tom was silent. “And are those reasons unresolvable?” His clear hazel eyes searched Gina’s.

  Gina shook her head. “I don’t think so, but it won’t be easy.”

  “Nothing worthwhile ever is. Are you saying I should try?”

  “That’s up to you. It depends how much you want to.”

  “Oh I want to, believe me, I’ve never wanted anything more.”

  “Then don’t give up.” Gina squeezed his hand. “But please, be careful.”

  He squeezed her hand back, looked at her. “You don’t need to worry.”

  They both stood up to leave the restaurant.

  Tom’s first instinct on arriving home was to rush round to Beth’s and talk to her. Well, actually to sweep her into his arms first then talk to her, but that wasn’t the best idea. He needed to be patient and wait until the time was right. He also needed to think what he was going to say. This was too important to get wrong.

  He hadn’t realised he could be such a good actor. He and Beth had walked along the beach and sat in their usual spot, watching Charlie race in and out of the waves. He had to force himself to chat normally, discuss how the alterations were going to his house, ask how Nell was, tell her about the books he had bought in Waterstones. Force himself not to gaze at her lovely face, or her gorgeous, soft feminine body. Heard his voice speaking normally but felt like a coiled spring. But she seemed unaware of his tension, listening to his chatter then telling him about school and the banes of her life, Isaac and Joe, and little Ava, face of an angel but the most stubborn child Beth had ever come across. She had obviously put the incident behind her. Tom was relieved they could still be friends but that wasn’t going to be enough for him, not nearly enough.

  Friday morning brought good news. Beth heard her phone go while supervising a group outside on the play equipment but it was break time before she could check the call and phone Carol back. As soon as she answered, Beth knew it was good news.

  “Oh Carol, I’m so pleased. What a relief.”

  The biopsy results were fine, the polyp was benign and no further treatment was needed.

  Beth walked to church for flower arranging with a light heart and hugged her friend as soon as she saw her. “Some good news at last, you must be over the moon.”

  “Oh I am, believe me, I am.”

  No Ali. She obviously meant what she had said about not helping anymore, but Frances was already there, bustling around. She had checked Gina’s display and topped up the water and was starting on the pink and white pedestal.

  “Beth, you do this one, Carol, you do the font and Gina and I will do the Lady Chapel.”

  “Yes Frances” Carol saluted the woman behind her back and Beth and Gina stifled their giggles.

  The atmosphere that afternoon was light-hearted; due in the main to Carol’s news. Beth was relieved and went about her duties happily until a glance at Melissa’s photo on the small table brought the tragedy sharply back into focus. What a stupid waste of life, and who was responsible for ending it like that?

  Tom’s opportunity came that evening. He hadn’t planned it like that but Beth knocked on the front door with Charlie just as the heavens opened.

  “Oh” she gasped. “Where did that come from? I didn’t even realise it was cloudy.”

  Tom opened the door wide and gestured her through. “Come in, we’ll wait until it passes. Charlie, go on through to Tess” nudging the little dog along with a trainer clad foot. Beth followed him through into the kitchen.

  “Coffee?” Tom looked at her, his heart lurching at the sight of her wide green eyes, her lovely mouth.

  She nodded and leaned against the kitchen worktop while he made a pot of coffee, watching his economical movements and tall, strong figure in denim jeans and a checked cotton shirt. Her heart ached and she firmly forced herself to look out of the window and admire the garden. Tom followed her gaze as she commented on the display of red and yellow tulips in the border, their petals bright and vibrant against the mellow stone wall, dripping water on to the soil below.

  “I have to stop Frances from picking them all, I do want some left in the garden.” He poured the coffee and looked up at the sky; the single black cloud that had been responsible for the downpour had now been joined by several others. “It’s not going to stop. Let’s take our coffees into the living ro
om and start designing the ark.”

  “I think someone already did” giggled Beth, following him and sitting down on a large, squashy cream sofa, looking at the water streaming down the large bay windows. Tom sat in a deep faded red armchair, large enough for two, at right angles to the sofa. He would need large furniture, she reflected, to accommodate his long legs and large frame. She looked around with interest. The room was decorated in cream and deep red, plain cream walls with several pictures, a large mirror over the original fireplace, rich wooden floorboards with a large cream rug and deep red cushions on the large sofa. Curtains hung either side of the bay window in a dark red and cream print, framing the original white painted wooden shutters. Small tables were dotted around, covered with newspapers, magazines and books. The whole effect was warm and cosy, especially when Tom reached over to flick the switch on a large modern cream lamp on the table nearest to him. It was a comfortable room, meant to be relaxed in and enjoyed.

  Tom leaned forward, cradling his mug of coffee, and looked at Beth. His heart seemed to swell as he took in the wave of soft dark blonde hair sweeping across her forehead and falling over her cheek, the skin a soft peachy pink. Her lips were slightly open, perfectly shaped and delicate and his stomach lurched as he recalled their softness and sweet taste. Her neck was smooth and golden, a tiny pulse beating at the side. She was looking out of the window and he could see her lashes, long and curved, and her delicate slightly arched brows. He knew without seeing them that her eyes were green, as cool and clear as a mountain stream. Her cotton T shirt hugged her perfect, full soft breasts and her legs just reaching the floor were lightly tanned and shapely. He had difficulty swallowing and must have made a sound because Beth looked at him and caught her breath at his expression.

  “Beth” he leaned forward, remembered she wasn’t comfortable with him too close and eased back again. “Beth, the other evening, when I kissed you...”

  No no, not that. Please don’t talk about that, prayed Beth.

  “... You were scared. I felt you panicking” he swallowed. “Beth, you’ve become a dear friend and I wouldn’t upset you or hurt you for the world.”

  Beth felt her heart beginning to pound. Didn’t know where to look and gazed down at the rug. She could hear the rain on the windows and the patter of Charlie’s feet as he explored the kitchen.

  “You said you didn’t like people to get too close, to invade your space. But you seem fine with Carol and Gina, and with others. So is it just me?”

  Beth kept looking down; no idea what to say.

  “Please, won’t you tell me? I hope I’m a good friend to you too and you can trust me with...” his voice hesitated. With what? He began again. “I hated seeing you upset like that. Beth, can’t you tell me why you were so scared?”

  Beth lifted her gaze from the rug and met his eyes, warm, gentle eyes, concern in their hazel depths. Her stomach lurched deep inside her and she was suddenly tired; tired of worrying about his feelings for Gina, and hers for him; tired of looking at him and knowing he was out of reach, tired of secrets. What did it matter if she told him? It couldn’t make any difference; it could never work anyway but at least he would understand why and she could put it aside and get on with life.

  She clasped her hands together tightly. “I did panic, you’re right. And you’re right that I’m fine with other people.”

  He waited. Saw her take a deep breath.

  She swallowed, tried again, “Basically I’m fine with women, it’s just men.”

  Tom felt a lead weight in his chest, felt sick. Quietly, urgently “Tell me why, Beth, please?”

  This was it. Beth sat stiffly, hands clasped, looking down, her hair falling over her face, took another deep breath.....

  “Because…..because of something a long time ago. When….when Louise and I had to move, out of our home, into a care home, orphanage, whatever you want to call it.” She paused, swallowed.

  “Why did you go into care?” Tom’s throat was aching, heart racing.

  “Because our mother was ill, then died. There was no one else to live with. Louise and I lived with just our mother, our father left when I was four and Louise two. Mum didn’t cope very well.” An understatement, but she didn’t need to go into details. “When we were ten and eight she was diagnosed with breast cancer. She’d never bothered with mammograms or anything and by the time it was discovered, it was advanced. Louise and I were taken into care while she had treatment, then we went back home. But near the end we went back into care and she died when we were twelve and ten.”

  She heard Tom’s intake of breath and sensed his stillness.

  She focused on the rug, studying every cream strand.

  “It wasn’t too bad in the home. The staff were nice and tried hard, but they kept changing and we would just get used to one house manager and they’d leave, and we’d start all over again. But it was okay. We stayed at our primary schools then went on to secondary. And at least we had each other.”

  Tom was leaning forward now, but avoiding touching her.

  “So what went wrong?” His voice was quiet.

  “They were a nice bunch of children in the home, there were only ten of us and we all got on well. Then when I was fourteen and Louise twelve, a new boy arrived. He was fifteen but looked older.”

  This was getting difficult and Beth started fidgeting with her skirt, crumpling the cotton.

  “He got friendly with two other boys, a bit younger. He showed off to them and they thought he was wonderful, a real lad. And he kept staring at me. I was the oldest girl in the home and I was quite plump, well, curvy really. He was always looking at my chest and started making comments. He started calling me names. The other boys thought it was funny. I tried to keep out of his way but then he started cornering me, squeezing past, touching my chest, that sort of thing but making out it was accidental. Then he would apologise and smirk.”

  “Did you tell anyone?” Tom’s voice was hoarse, his throat tight.

  Beth nodded. “I told the new house manager. She said she would have a word with him. And she did, but she came back to me and said he had denied it, said I was just imagining it and his friends backed him up, of course.

  So after that I made sure I was always as far away from him as possible, and kept a watch on Louise too. She was developing quickly, like I had. He would look at me and laugh, saying things and making obscene gestures when no one was looking. I complained about him again but again he denied it and the house manager said just to ignore him.”

  Beth was calm now, recounting the events on auto pilot. Tom still leaned forward, his hands clenched on his knees, knuckles white. He didn’t want to hear any more, he really didn’t.

  “Then one afternoon one of the younger boys, Gary, he came to find me in the living room and said Louise and her friends were playing in the garden house. That was a kind of Wendy house, with curtains and furniture and stuff, in the corner of the garden, that the little kids used. He said she had hurt her leg and was asking for me. I ran out to the garden, over to the house and went in. Louise and her friends weren’t in there of course. Jamie had bribed Gary to give me the message. He was in there with his two friends, grinning. He sent the other two out, telling them to stand guard outside.”

  Tom closed his eyes. His heart was pounding, blood racing to his head, making him feel dizzy.

  “He said I had a nerve, making up things about him, and he was going to give me something to complain about. He pushed me on the floor and stuffed a cloth in my mouth. Then he knelt over me, pulled up my T shirt and skirt. Pulled at my underwear. He started to...” Beth couldn’t go on.

  “Did he rape you?” Tom didn’t recognise his voice; it was croaky, rasping, coming from far away.

  Beth shook her head. “He tried to. But he couldn’t. He kept trying but.... he kept hurting me, he was so rough...then at last he stopped and slapped my face, saying I was frigid, and a freak, something wrong with me that I couldn’t do it. He pulled out a p
enknife and said if I told anyone about it, he would tell them I had been after him, I had begged for it. Then he said if I did say anything, I’d better watch Louise very, very carefully. He left and they went off and I lay there in the dark; I couldn’t move but I was terrified he would come back and eventually I got up and went back to our room and Louise was there, chatty and normal as always. I just wanted to have a bath and go to bed. But I didn’t dare to leave Louise alone. So I acted as though nothing had happened and I stuck to her like glue all the time. All the time until he left a year later, when he left to go to college.”

  She stared down at the rug, face white, hands clasped together. Silent.

  “You didn’t tell anyone?” Tom was having trouble breathing.

  “No. How could I? My word against his? They hadn’t believed me before. And I couldn’t risk Louise...” her voice broke. She pushed her hair back from her face with hands that shook.

  Tom couldn’t bear it. He moved stiffly, like an old man, squatted down in front of her.

  “Beth, oh sweetheart” his voice shook, his head still swam.

  “No, no.” Beth flapped her hands and shrank back. “Don’t, don’t give me any sympathy.”

  “Why not?” He tried to breath slowly, calm down. Rubbed his face.

  “Because I can’t cope with that, with sympathy.”

  “Why not? What’s wrong with someone caring what happened to you?”

  Beth shook her head, looked down at her fingers where she was still pleating the material in her skirt, her fingers shaking.

  “It would start me off crying.” She could already feel her eyes stinging, tears pricking at her eyelids.

  “So why shouldn’t you cry?” He was regaining some control now. His head had steadied and air was getting to his lungs.

  “I can’t” shaking her head. “If I start, I won’t be able to stop, I’ll just fall apart.”

  Tom took a deep breath, looked at her tense, white face and agitated hands.

  “You should cry, Beth. Don’t bottle it up. It doesn’t matter if you fall apart.”