A Move to Murder: A Bride's Bay Mystery Page 15

  There was a huge lump in his throat and he swallowed hard, opened his arms wide.

  “Come here, my love. Come to me. And let yourself cry. Please?”

  His throat ached as she looked up at him, eyes swimming.

  She leaned forward and that was all the encouragement Tom needed. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close against his chest. His arms were strong and warm and his chest solid and Beth let the tears come as he rocked her back and forth, back and forth, stroking her hair.

  “It’s all right, my love. You’re safe, I’ve got you.” His arms tightened around her. “He’ll never hurt you again. No one will hurt you again. Sshh, I’m here. I’ve got you sweetheart.”

  Beth’s head was against his heart and she was aware of the thump of his heartbeats and the buttons on his polo shirt pressing against her cheek as he held her even tighter, his head pressed against hers, his lips on her hair.

  Now she had started crying, she couldn’t stop, as she had known. The tears streamed down her cheeks and her chest heaved with sobs.

  “I’m sorry” she gulped, voice shaking.

  “No, you’ve no need to be sorry. Just let go.”

  She felt him move backwards, taking her with him, then he scooped her up in his arms and moved to sit on the sofa, pulling her across his lap, cradling her against his chest.

  “Cry it all out sweetheart. You’re safe, it’s all over. I’ve got you, it’s alright. Just cry, that’s it my love, cry it all out.”

  Rocking her and stroking her hair, his chin resting on her head, arms tightly round her. Beth sobbed and still he held her close to his chest, murmuring, soothing. His shirt was soaked where she lay against it but he didn’t move, only held her closer, ever closer, one warm hand smoothing her hair while the other gently rubbed her back.

  Eventually the storm of weeping started to ease and Beth’s sobs became quieter, the breaths catching in her throat decreasing until she only gave a small gasp occasionally. Tom reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, gently wiping her eyes, then her nose.

  “I’m sorry, I’ve soaked your shirt.” Beth’s voice wobbled and she went to pull away but Tom’s arms pulled her gently back against his chest.

  “It doesn’t matter, stay here.” Beth leaned against him, her breath still coming in the occasional quiet gasp. His arms were warm and comforting and for the first time for as long as she could remember she felt safe, safe and secure. He carried on stroking her hair, murmuring soothing words, until her breathing was normal and she had stopped trembling. Still he didn’t let go, keeping his arms around her, stroking her back. Minutes passed. The tears had stopped and Beth felt calm; tired and drained but calm. She could feel the soft cotton of his Polo shirt under her cheek, rough hair tickled her nose and she could smell the warm, musky scent of his skin. His hands were firm but gentle in her hair and his arms strong, wrapped round her.

  She could have stayed there forever, warm and safe, clutching his soft shirt, but eventually she pulled away, sitting up straight next to him, blowing her nose again.

  Tom eased back, stretched his legs.

  “I think we need a drink.” He got to his feet, looked down at her swollen eyes and tear stained cheeks. “Go and wash your face, sweetheart, your eyes will be sore.”

  He helped her up and guided her into the hall, to the cloakroom. Beth soaked her eyes for a couple of minutes then looked in the mirror. Her eyes were red and puffy, her skin blotchy. Her mascara had smudged under her eyes and she wet some toilet paper and rubbed it off, making her eyes even redder. And her hair was all over the place but she didn’t have a comb.

  When she went back into the living room, Tom was sitting on the sofa and had put a small table in front of it with two glasses of wine. He patted the cushion next to him then handed her a glass of wine. It was icy cold, fruity, refreshing and she drank it as if it was water.

  “Thank you.” Beth put her glass down, keeping her gaze on the small table.

  “Beth. I don’t know what to say.” Tom looked at her, his fingers tense around the wine glass. “I’m just so sorry. So, so sorry.”

  Beth didn’t know what to say either and there was an awkward silence. Tom broke it at last.

  “Who else knows?”

  “Gina, Carol. Louise knew, before ...” her throat closed up again.

  “Nell?”

  Beth shook her head. “No. She was too young, and now she has a good life, I don’t want to upset her...” her voice trailed off.

  Another silence.

  Tom poured more wine, Beth putting her hand over her glass when it was half full.

  “That’s enough. I got through that last one a bit too quickly.”

  “Anyway...” she took another sip. “Now you know. Not a pretty story.” She tried to smile, failed. “But it explains things, doesn’t it?”

  Tom nodded. “Yes, and I’m glad you told me, I know how difficult it must have been. But I just don’t know what to say, or do?” looking at her enquiringly.

  “Nothing, there is nothing.” She yawned. “Sorry, what time is it?”

  Tom glanced at his watch. “Nearly ten and you’re exhausted. But I don’t want you to go and be on your own. Will you stay here tonight? The spare room is all ready for guests.”

  Beth shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine, honestly. I know it’s been a shock for you but I’ve lived with it for nearly forty years, remember.” Got to her feet, her head swimming slightly, her eyes grainy and sore.

  Tom looked unhappy. “But I’ve made you relive it all. And get so upset telling me.”

  “You didn’t make me tell you. I didn’t have to, but I wanted you to know just why I reacted like I did. And yes I might have got upset but I’m alright now, really I am.”

  Tom didn’t look convinced but saw he wasn’t going to persuade her to stay. Reluctantly, he watched her walk into the kitchen to call Charlie and pick up her bag.

  “Then will you promise me you’ll phone if you change your mind or can’t settle? Any time in the night? I’ll come and get you. Please, I can’t bear thinking of you upset, on your own.”

  Beth nodded. “Alright, but I’ll be okay. You don’t need to come with me” seeing him pick up his keys and nudge Tess awake.

  “Yes I do. And Tess can do with a walk; it’s just the distance she likes, to your house and back.”

  Beth knew he wouldn’t give in and followed him into the hall. “Is it still raining?”

  “No, the sky’s clear, the stars are out.”

  He locked the door behind him and walked close beside her, down the road to the corner and across to her house.

  She let herself and Charlie in, turning to Tom in the doorway.

  “Thank you. I can’t say I feel better right this minute, I feel a wreck. But I’ll be alright in the morning.”

  Tom forced himself to simply look down at her tired, pale face. Don’t touch her, leave her. But it went against all his instincts.

  “Try and get some sleep. But phone me if you want to. Normal walk tomorrow?”

  Beth nodded and bent down to stroke Tess. “I’ll call round to you. Good night.”

  The door closed and Tom and Tess walked slowly home.

  Chapter 11

  The weekend passed quietly. Beth had tossed and turned that night, as she had known she would; eventually getting up just before three to go downstairs and make a cup of tea. She fell asleep on the sofa, waking four hours later with Charlie nudging her arm. She had done a bit of housework and shopping in the morning, then sat in the garden in the afternoon, falling asleep on the sun lounger and waking up two hours later.

  The weather was clear and sunny again that evening and they strolled along the water’s edge, Charlie diving in and out of the small waves and even Tess paddling through the shallows. The shingle was just dry enough to sit on and they made their way up the beach and sat; Tess curling up beside Tom, Charlie bringing Beth a piece of driftwood for her to throw.

&nbs
p; She needed to say it. “Tom. What I told you. I don’t want it to be the elephant in the room.”

  She looked at him, eyes clear and green again today.

  “You mean you don’t want it to be something thought about but never mentioned?” a question in his hazel eyes.

  Beth nodded. “I don’t mean I want to talk about it a lot, I don’t. Not at all. But Carol and Gina convinced me it’s not a guilty secret, at least, not my guilty secret. I don’t tell anyone but that’s just because it’s private. Not because I’m ashamed. Does that make sense?”

  “Of course. And of course they’re right. You were an innocent victim, not much more than a child” a pause “did you ever have counselling?”

  “No, I never wanted to. I just wanted to get on with life, not rake it all up, going over and over it with a stranger. I kept busy, managed it in my own way.”

  By keeping men at bay, ignoring her own needs, Tom thought, with sadness, but didn’t say it.

  “But what I’m trying to say, badly, is that you don’t need to be scared of mentioning it, don’t think you’ve put your foot in it if you do say something. Gina hardly ever refers to it, only if I mention it first. But Carol does sometimes. She thinks it’s healthier to talk about things, says it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “She’s right.”

  Beth nodded. “I know. But I worry that she will say something in front of others, like Frances, or April and Sue. Even worse, suppose she said something in front of Nell?” She turned her lovely face towards him, anguish in her green eyes.

  He felt a surge of anger towards the boy who had hurt her so much, caused so much damage. Took a deep breath to calm down.

  “Beth, if it worries you, you should tell Nell. Better to hear it from you than someone else. And she’s an adult, she’ll cope.”

  Beth didn’t look convinced. “But she’ll be devastated.”

  “Yes, of course she will. But she’s strong, and she’s got Will, from what you say. Think about it at least?”

  Beth took a shaky breath and nodded. “Maybe. I’m always telling Carol to be careful in front of Nell but perhaps it would be better.”

  Charlie ran up to her then, shaking sea water all over them both and Beth laughed and jumped to her feet.

  “Horrid dog! Come on, time for home.”

  Tom slowly got to his feet, watching her as she brushed the sand off her denim skirt and slipped her feet into her sandals. They walked back in companionable silence; Beth relieved at clearing the air, Tom struggling to cope with the fact he had so much to say and no chance to say it.

  The days flew by. School was busy with assessments and reports and planning the summer fete. Church was busy with organising the auction of promises. An increase in day trippers meant longer queues in the shops and crowds to weave through on the pavements and the beach path. When Beth arrived at the charity shop on Wednesday, she had to fight her way through to the back, where Gina was pricing up garments.

  But soon both women were called out to the shop to serve and were kept busy until a lull at half past four. Just as they sat down to grab a quick cup of coffee, June Jacobs bustled into the shop, eyes gleaming and jaw open. “You’ll never guess.”

  “No, but I don’t suppose we need to.” Sue, with sarcasm that was wasted on the older women.

  “There’s been another robbery.” Saliva flew from June’s mouth and Beth recoiled quickly, her heart thudding.

  “Not another death?” She could hardly say the words. Around her were gasps of shock.

  “No.” June sounded almost disappointed. “But they were caught in the act!” That was obviously almost as exciting as a murder would have been.

  “Sit down, June. You must have had a shock.” April stood up and urged her to her chair. “Sue, make June a cup of tea, two sugars.”

  “Well, yes, of course.” June blinked, missing the irony in April’s comments. She sat down heavily.

  “So where? When?” April queried.

  “Highfield Lane, Monkton. Big house at the end, white, kind of farm gates at the entrance. I don’t know who lives there.”

  “The Burwell’s.” Gina’s voice, quiet.

  “Ah. What do they do?” June swivelled to look at Gina, who was standing behind the counter, calm and collected in navy linen trousers and a white top.

  “He’s an accountant; she’s a lawyer in Southampton.”

  “Well. Whatever they do “June sniffed, envious of high paying, high powered jobs “they were out but the neighbour behind them was sunbathing, saw two men climbing through the utility window. Well, my friend said it was the utility window. Her daughter cleans for the house next door and she’s been in the house and said it was. So the neighbour calls the police and a few minutes later there’s sirens and commotion and they’re caught in the act.” She sat back triumphantly, with the air of one who had caught the miscreants personally. Sue handed her a cup of tea.

  “So, burglaries solved.” Took a sip and grimaced. “I don’t take sugar, dear.”

  “So who were they? The burglars?” Sue asked.

  June shook her head, rigid grey curls unmoving, and bit her lip, unwilling to admit to the limit of her inside knowledge. “Don’t know yet.” Frowned, mouth turning down, her moment of glory over.

  “Well. Thank goodness they’ve been caught.” April said briskly. “Now perhaps justice will be done for poor Melissa and we can all get back to normal.”

  But the two youths arrested for breaking and entering the five houses admitted to four of them, but denied robbing Melissa’s. One was local, the other from Whitely. And they had no connection to the building firm, the estate agency or any other business in Bride’s Bay. The first euphoria at their arrest faded as fast as it had arisen. Grace had been taken to the police station, accompanied by Mark, but had returned distraught. The police had interviewed the youths for twenty four hours and were detaining them on the four burglary charges, but not Melissa’s murder. Carol filled Gina and Beth in as they sat at their usual table in the window, on Thursday evening. It was her first evening out since her operation and she looked well.

  “Maggie said Grace is so upset. She had thought, like all of us, that the police had caught whoever killed Melissa. But it seems not. The investigation into her death is still ongoing. They think someone else was responsible for it.”

  The three women were silent. Beth pushed her food around her plate, trying to quell her anxiety. A killer was still walking free, anywhere. Or killers. The other two obviously felt the same as Gina pushed her plate away and poured more wine.

  Carol tried to think logically. “But that means there are two gangs robbing houses. How do we go from no break ins around here to two gangs?”

  No one had the answer to that.

  “And if there are two gangs” Carol continued, slowly “one of them wasn’t violent, but the other is.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Beth saw Gina suppressing a shiver.

  “Gina, you can always stay with me, if you want?”

  “No, but thank you, I’ll be alright. But you’re welcome at mine?” She raised her perfect brows.

  Beth declined. But wondered if later that night she would wish she had accepted.

  Gina had an appointment next day and had told the two women she wouldn’t be at flower arranging.

  “Can you check my arrangement for me? The peonies will be over by now, maybe the gypsophilla, but the rest should be fine” she had asked, as they were leaving Waves on Thursday evening.

  “Of course” Beth nodded. “I’ll see what I’ve got in the garden to replace them, or pick something up at Maisie’s Blooms.”

  A quick hunt of her garden at lunchtime had provided some alliums, a delicate violet colour with white tips. She picked a bunch, also some greenery, and walked to church in plenty of time, planning to call into the gallery for a get well card for a colleague on the way. But the gallery was shut, a notice blu tacked to the inside window reading “Closed until further
notice.” She hesitated, wondering whether to call into Bryn Cards and Gifts but deciding to look in Emma’s Gift shop the next day. She had a better selection.

  She was a few minutes early for flower arranging but went in, putting her offerings down on the floor by Gina’s arrangement and going into the flower room to gather a rubbish bag and secateurs. Gina had been right, the peonies were over, their soft petals wrinkled and brown at the edges. She pulled them out, dropping them into the bag, scattering dead petals on the floor. The gypsophilla sprayed tiny brown specks of dust around her as she worked, and she pulled their stems out too. The arrangement looked bare now, the aquilegias and carnations pretty, but then carnations lasted for weeks in the cool. The ivy tumbling down was also still green and glossy. She only needed to place the alliums in the gaps, and add a bit more greenery between them. Trimming an allium stem, she pushed it into the bare patch of oasis between the carnations. It wouldn’t go and the stem bent and broke. Bother. This was always the problem, she thought, I waste as many flower stems as I use. Frances would be horrified. The thought of the other woman’s scorn spurned her on to quickly dispose of the ruined stem and trim another one. She tried again and again it jammed and broke. Beth pushed the flowers away from the oasis and peered into the arrangement. All she could see was a patch of green oasis. She tried another stem in a different gap. Again it broke. Frances would be here any minute and she was running out of alliums. Beth prodded and poked frantically in the arrangement, breaking bits of oasis off in her haste. If Frances saw that she would really be in trouble, remembering Frances’s white faced fury with Ali. She pressed the oasis. Maybe it was too dry, which was why the stems wouldn’t go in? But no, it was wet. She pressed again. Halted. Felt smooth, hard plastic beneath her fingers, under the broken oasis. She scrabbled around, breaking off more bits of oasis and feeling more and more plastic. Put her fingers around the wet, smooth surface and pulled it out. She was just holding it up, staring at it in horror, as Carol and Frances walked in and stared at her, wide eyed.