After the events of today, her warmth and kindness is comforting. The kitchen is big but still manages somehow to be cosy, with a colourful rug on the wide floorboards and a large oak table surrounded by eight chairs.
As Cath and I sit down, Zoe brings over a bottle of white wine and three glasses. ‘Cath told me about your mum, Jess. I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how upsetting this must be for you. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need to.’ She glances at Cath. ‘Both of you.’
‘Thank you.’ Touched by her kindness, I take the glass she offers me. ‘I don’t know what’s happening. Do we?’ I look at Cath.
‘Not right now.’ Cath takes a sip of her wine. ‘Hopefully we’ll find out more tomorrow.’
The wine is cold and crisp, and as I drink, I realise how exhausted I am. Zoe serves up a huge bowl of steaming hot pasta. ‘It’s with olive oil and herbs,’ she says. ‘Cath told me you were vegan, so I kept it plain. I hope that’s OK?’
‘Thank you so much. It looks wonderful.’ In this warm house, in the company of a stranger, I’m grateful, but it’s another stark reminder of Matt’s lack of consideration. His arrival in our lives radically changed my own home until it barely resembled what it used to be.
‘Let’s eat. The food smells amazing.’ Cath tries to sound bright.
But thinking of Matt, of my mother being held in custody, my appetite has vanished Taking a small portion, I push it around my plate, before putting my fork down. ‘I’m sorry. I’m not really hungry.’
‘Have a little.’ Cath’s voice is sympathetic. ‘You need to eat, Jess. Keep your strength up. Your mum’s relying on us.’
*
After we’ve finished eating, Zoe shows me up to one of her guest rooms. ‘I’ve put towels in the bathroom.’ She opens the door to a small en suite. ‘If there’s anything else you need, Jess, you only have to ask. Please make yourself at home.’ She pauses for a moment, concern written on her face as she speaks more quietly. ‘I really hope tomorrow brings you the answers you want.’
‘Thank you. This is so lovely.’ And it is, from the pastel patterned bedding to the heavy white curtains, a small set of toiletries thoughtfully laid out on top of the chest of drawers.
The bed is comfortable, the noise coming from outside in the street unfamiliar as I lie there, grateful, but thinking of my own bed at home; where the sky is dark, the only sounds the occasional owl and the wind. But however tired I feel, sleep evades me. Gazing at the ceiling, I try to imagine what my mother’s been through these last few weeks, since Matt disappeared. However Matt treated her in the past, she’s lost the man she loved and the future she believed lay ahead of her. And now, ridiculously, by the cruellest twist of fate, she’s being held in custody by the police.
My mind wanders, as I think about what might have happened to Matt. Then I think of the bouquet of flowers in blood. It sounds as though someone was trying to get at both of them. Suddenly it strikes me, if there’s someone with a big enough grudge against my mother, that drove them to kill Matt, then leave the bouquet in blood for my mother to find, what next? Am I in danger, too? Maybe the other woman is behind it all. Maybe she’s killed Matt, before setting my mother up as a kind of revenge, out of some form of twisted jealousy.
Eventually I doze, only to wake with a start and a clarity of thought that yesterday escaped me. This has to be connected to the other woman Matt was seeing. I need to find out who she is.
*
After breakfast, Cath and I drive to Steyning. Although my house is off-limits, I want to see what’s going on there. The sky is a little brighter, the air dry, the rolling hills comfortingly familiar, until we arrive to find two police cars parked outside. When she sees us, PC Page gets out of one of them. Leaving Cath to park her car, I get out and walk towards her.
There’s a frown on her face. ‘Morning. I’m sorry. As I explained yesterday, we can’t allow anyone to go inside.’
‘I know. I just wanted to come here.’ This morning, even the air feels different. Then I realise, there are no birds. Instead, there’s an eerie silence, and I realise the sense of peace my mother has nurtured is no longer part of the framework of this place; that the intangible serenity she’s tried so hard to preserve has gone.
Wrapping my arms around myself, I take in the plastic tape cordoning off the front garden, presumably the extent of what they consider the crime scene, the second police officer sitting inside the other car. Gazing up at the windows, the house looks unfamiliarly cold and bleak. Tears prick my eyes, because when all this is over, life can never go back to how it was.
PC Page’s voice breaks into my thoughts. ‘How did you sleep?’
‘OK.’ Still staring at the house, I shrug. ‘I was thinking about a lot of stuff.’ Turning to look at her, I pause. ‘I know my mother’s a suspect, but if she’s innocent, which I’m a hundred per cent sure she is, I was trying to think who else could be involved in Matt’s disappearance. The obvious answer is this other woman he was seeing. Maybe she ran out of patience when he didn’t leave Mum. She killed him because she couldn’t bear the thought of him being
