The Moment She Left (22 page)

‘Actually,’ Andee replied, ‘she seems OK. We had a chat yesterday, and now she’s helping me with something, so I think we might have turned a corner.’

‘Oh dear, does that mean you were having difficulties?’

‘A few.’

Reminded of Andee’s broken marriage, Rowzee said, very gently, ‘I don’t want to pry, but I’m guessing she’s taking your break-up with her father quite hard?’

Andee nodded. ‘To be honest, I thought she’d be so wrapped up in student life and her own plans for the summer that she’d hardly concern herself with what was going on at home, which just goes to show how naïve, or even delusional I was.’

‘It could very easily have happened that way, you can never tell with children. Just a thought, do you know if everything was good for her before she came home? Any boyfriend problems, or uncertainties about her course?’

Andee frowned. ‘What on earth are you going to think of me when I confess that I haven’t asked? To be honest, it never even crossed my mind that she might be trying to deal with her own issues. So the situation between her father and me could be making everything worse?’

‘I’m not saying that’s the case, but from what I remember of Alayna she’s a very sensitive and compassionate girl, so it’s possible she needed to pour a
few things out to you when she came back and then got angry because she didn’t have your full attention.’

Andee glanced over at her. ‘Why didn’t I see it like that?’

Rowzee smiled. ‘The bigger picture is often much easier to see from the outside.’

Shaking her head, Andee said, ‘It’s no wonder all your students loved you. You’re easy to talk to and wise and wonderful . . .’

Rowzee gave a shout of laughter. ‘Believe me, I’m as capable of getting things wrong as anyone else, and my darling sister would greatly enjoy telling you that if she were here.’

‘You’re very close, you two,’ Andee smiled.

‘Yes, we are, and sometimes I wonder if a little too close. I worry that I’m holding her back, stopping her from getting on with her life because she feels she has to take care of me. She likes to have someone to take care of, you see, it gives her an excuse to avoid looking at the things that are missing in her life.’

‘You think things are missing?’

‘Well, let’s just say that she’s never met that one special person who recognises just how very special she is. She hides who she really is behind her bossy, overbearing personality, when in actual fact she’s as kind and loyal and loving as anyone I’ve ever known. OK, I’m her sister, so I’m biased, but I know her better than anyone, so I know I’m right. The trouble is, ever since Victor died she’s fussed around me like a mother hen, making sure I’m not getting too sad or missing him too much. She even moved in with me, as you know, and
I have to admit I’m quite happy about that because I enjoy the company, even when she’s being a cantankerous old bat.’ She stopped, puzzled, as it suddenly struck her that Pamela hadn’t been quite so irritable lately. She might even be showing signs of becoming more tolerant in her old age – unless there had been outrages and eruptions Rowzee had managed to forget about, or even not notice thanks to the slow but steady breakdown in her brain.

Experiencing a jolt of sadness at the reminder of her condition, she tried to concentrate on what Andee was saying, but it was a while before she was fully focused, and she had no idea how much she’d missed by the time Andee excused herself and took a phone call on her hands-free.

‘Hi, Mum, it’s me,’ Alayna cried excitedly. ‘You are so not going to believe this.’

‘Try me,’ Andee challenged, casting a smile at Rowzee.

‘OK, right, so I speak to about twelve different rental agents in West London like you told me to, and I end up talking to this one called Anzel, or something like that. She’s half-French, half-Russian, so we spoke in French, which was kind of cool. Anyway, she gave me the number of this other agent who she says operates only on a strictly private basis, if I knew what she meant. I didn’t, but I called the number anyway and this other agent – her name’s Oleysa and she’s also Russian, I think, definitely not English anyway – so she tells me that yes, someone called Yoder did rent a house through her in Holland Park about two years
ago. And that’s not all, apparently she told the police that three days ago when they called.’

Amazed and fascinated, Andee said, ‘You’ve done a brilliant job, my darling. Now I want you to call Leo at the station and tell him exactly what you just told me.’

‘No problem. How’s Mrs C? Is she with you?’

‘I’m very good, Alayna, thank you,’ Rowzee called out. ‘It’s lovely to hear you.’

‘And you. Take care of my mum, won’t you – and Mum, take care of Mrs C. Going to call Leo now,’ and the line went dead.

Rowzee and Andee exchanged glances.

‘Am I right in thinking,’ Rowzee said carefully, ‘that there’s just been a breakthrough in the search for Jessica?’

Cautiously, Andee replied, ‘It’s sounding like the police in London have made one and decided not to share, which is interesting. Perhaps it’s best not to say anything to Blake for the moment. I’d like to hear what the CID officers in London have to say to their colleagues in Kesterly when they’re told that we know about the rental.’

Thankful that her and Rowzee’s first visit of the day was to Norma Griffiths and her family, since she wanted more time to think before facing Jenny Leonard, Andee followed the satnav directions along Totnes’s Western Bypass and turned at the brow of the hill on to Plymouth Road. A few minutes later, just after the council offices, they found themselves in a labyrinth of streets made up of far newer houses than those out on the main road, or in the town’s
historic centre. Eventually they came to a stop outside a secluded pebble-dash bungalow, tucked into the end of a leafy cul-de-sac with a weeping willow in the front garden and a welcome sign hanging from the gate.

As Andee walked round the car to join Rowzee she could sense how tense Rowzee had become, and put a comforting hand on her arm. ‘Are you OK?’ she asked gently.

Rowzee was gazing at the heavily netted windows as she nodded. ‘I think so. A little nervous, I guess, and wishing Victor was here, but I keep reminding myself that he’s probably watching from wherever he is and I know he’d want me to do this.’

Touched by her belief, Andee led the way to the front door but didn’t press the bell until Rowzee indicated she was ready.

There was an immediate sound of movement inside, doors opening, footsteps, voices, and a moment later they were being warmly greeted by a friendly, even eager-looking woman with large, violet-blue eyes, a heart-shaped face and copious amounts of silver hair gathered up in a bun and held in place by a chopstick. Andee was immediately struck by how much younger and more glamorous the woman looked than she’d expected – presuming this was Norma Griffiths, but maybe it was a daughter, or friend, or someone they’d yet to hear anything about.

‘You must be Rowena,’ the woman smiled, taking both of Rowzee’s hands in hers. ‘I’m Norma. It’s so lovely to meet you. Thank you for coming all this way. I hope you managed to track us down OK.’

Finding her voice, Rowzee said, ‘Andee’s trusty little gizmo did us proud.’

Turning to Andee and still smiling a welcome, Norma said, ‘Jason’s told me all good things about you. Come in, please. We’ve been looking forward so much to seeing you. Ever since Jason called to say that you were happy to meet me I’ve had nothing but positive and joyful feelings about the outcome, and I hope you have too.’

As Rowzee gave an assurance that she had, Andee was surprised and even amused to find herself in a state of optimism too, as though Norma’s ebullient nature and belief in good was somehow infectious. It had been right to come here, her instincts were telling her. She’d yet to find out why they’d reached this decision, but there was something so comforting and wholesome about this woman with her twinkly eyes and copious amounts of pretty jewellery that it felt uplifting just to be with her.

Andee watched Rowzee’s dear little head in front of her as, still holding Norma’s hand, she followed Norma across a dimly lit hall with several closed doors and into a surprisingly large and bright room, given how small the bungalow appeared from the outside. The smell of incense immediately assailed them, while the soothing notes of a harp mingled with the sound of trickling water. Colourful crystals, candles, runes and tiny angels were all around the place, with dreamcatchers and wind chimes dangling from window frames and overhead beams.

The room was clearly double the size it had once been, for the whole of the back wall had been removed
to give full and free access into a spacious sun room where water features and Buddhas and yet more crystals glinted serenely in the late-morning sunlight. All the furniture was draped in beautifully embroidered throws and needlepoint cushions, while the floors and walls were home to an impressive collection of what appeared to be handmade rugs and tapestries.

‘Jase is just putting the kettle on,’ Norma told them, lifting a parrot with one finger and handing it back into its cage. ‘He said you like biscuits, so I’ve made some specially. You don’t have to eat them, of course, I shan’t be offended, because they never go wasted in this house. People coming and going all the time, wanting readings, or advice of some sort, or a good old chat about whatever’s on their minds, which is lovely because it helps keep us all lively and up to date with this world and the next, if that’s what they’re after.’ Her violet eyes followed Rowzee’s to the person Andee had only just noticed herself. He was slumped in a wheelchair to one side of the sun room, his carroty hair glinting golden in the sunlight. His head was lolling towards one shoulder, while his thin hands hung loosely in his lap, and his empty blue-grey eyes were staring at nothing at all.

‘This is Sean, my son,’ Norma told them, going to bring the wheelchair closer. ‘Sean, do you remember I told you your stepmother was coming today? Well here she is, and a friend has also come with her. Aren’t we lucky to have visitors?’

Andee had seen enough photographs of Victor to realise straight away how this shell of a man
resembled him, and of course, Rowzee would be seeing it too. Worrying about the effect it might be having on her, Andee tried to think what to say, but Norma was already answering her own question, speaking as though Sean had in some way responded to her.

‘That’s right, my lovely, they’ve had quite a long drive, but Jase is making them some tea – or coffee if you prefer,’ she said to Rowzee and Andee.

‘Tea’s fine,’ they replied, almost in unison.

Andee said, ‘Jason told us about the accident . . . We hadn’t realised . . . Is it how he came to be like this?’

‘I’m afraid so,’ Norma replied, smoothing a fond hand over Sean’s hair.

Hating talking about him as if he weren’t there, but having to ask, Andee said, ‘Can he hear or speak?’

Still smiling, Norma said, ‘He rarely has anything to say, but the doctors are convinced he hears certain sounds so between us we’re trying to figure out a system of communication. Music is very good.’

Noticing how pale Rowzee had become, Andee put a hand on her shoulder.

‘Ah, here you are,’ Norma announced cheerily as Jason came into the room with an overloaded tray. ‘Put everything down here next to Dad, there’s a love.’

Struck by the incongruity of Jason’s razor cut, sleeveless jacket and torn jeans in this mesmerisingly spiritual emporium, Andee watched him set the tray down as expertly as a professional waiter.

‘It’s lovely to see you,’ Rowzee told him huskily, seeming unsure about everything, as well she might.

After giving her a hug, he said, ‘Nan, you haven’t invited anyone to sit down.’

With a roll of her eyes, Norma said, ‘Where are my manners? It’s a good job I have this young scallywag to keep me on my toes or who knows where we’d all end up,’ and waving Rowzee and Andee to a cosy two-seater sofa, she took an armchair next to Sean while Jason handed round cups of tea before perching on a chair next to the table.

‘In case you’re wondering,’ Norma began, ‘we always talk openly in front of Sean so please don’t be afraid to ask anything, or say whatever’s on your mind.’

Feeling that her own thoughts were largely irrelevant, Andee waited for Rowzee to speak first, but it seemed Rowzee was still finding it hard to say anything.

Coming to the rescue, Norma said, ‘I’m going about this all the wrong way round, as usual. I’m the one who should start, of course, by trying to express just how sorry I am for what Sean did to Victor all those years ago. I realise much water has flowed since, but that doesn’t make the crime any less serious, or the apology any less necessary or heartfelt. If I’d known where he was going that day I’d have done everything I could to stop him, but he hardly ever confided in me back then so I rarely knew what he was thinking, much less what he was planning to do with his day.’

Deciding to take the lead until Rowzee was ready, Andee said, ‘How long before that day did Sean know about Victor being his father?’

‘A few months,’ Norma replied. ‘He kept threatening to go, and I kept telling him that no good would come
of it while he was in the state he was in . . . Of course, I realise now that I should have contacted Victor myself to let him know that he had a son who might turn up on him.’

‘Why didn’t . . .?’ Rowzee cleared her throat. ‘Why didn’t you tell Victor right back when you knew you were pregnant?’

Norma’s eyes went to where her hand was holding her son’s, and it seemed for a moment that she wasn’t going to answer. ‘I was a fool not to have,’ she replied, her eyes still down, ‘and believe me I wish now that I had, but I was very young back then, and selfish and naïve with so many romantic notions in my head . . . I told myself that I’d love my baby so much that he’d never need a father.’ Her gentle eyes showed her troubled conscience as she fixed them on Rowzee. ‘I couldn’t have articulated any of that to myself back then,’ she admitted, ‘all I knew was that he was mine and I didn’t want to share him in case someone tried to take him away. So I never told a soul who the father was, not even my parents who stood by me for as long as they were alive. I realise now, of course, how irrational and unforgivable my actions were, and my only defence is youth and a lack of understanding of myself, never mind the world.’