Which can only have been Charlie’s death. Absorbed, I keep reading article after article, then I stumble across another photo. But this one isn’t just of Harold. Instead, he’s with his family – his glamorous wife, their two teenage boys standing in front of them. I study the taller one, recognising him as Charlie, then my eyes turn to the younger boy. Until now, there’d been no mention that Charlie had a brother. Zooming in on him, I stare, as shock hits me.
*
After telling Cath what I’ve found out, I call the police. When they arrive, I show PC Page what I’ve found. ‘I think Matt is Charlie’s younger brother. I was looking online into Charlie’s family and I found a photo of the family together. I know he was much younger, but it would explain everything wouldn’t it? If Matt held my mother responsible for his brother’s death – and why he’d want revenge.’ I show her the photo. ‘Look at his father. There’s a real likeness.’
She studies it carefully. ‘So you think Matthew Roche is really Matthew Brooks? If it is and he’s changed his name, there will be records. We need to look more into this, but if you’re right, it does suggest a motive.’ She pauses. ‘But it doesn’t explain why he would have waited for so long. And it still doesn’t tell us what’s happened to him.’
When I’d been hoping for so much more, her response disappoints me. ‘It’s him alright. And if I know Matt, he’ll be hiding out, enjoying every minute of this,’ I say bitterly.
PC Page glances at me. ‘We’ll definitely look into this, Jess. If you’re right, I’ll let you know.’
‘Oh.’ I’ve almost forgotten to tell her. ‘There’s something else. I had a reply from Mandy. I think you should read it.’ Getting my phone, I bring up the message to show her, passing her my phone.
Her face is grave as she reads it. ‘Can you forward it to me?’
*
When she leaves, I’m filled with frustration that what I’ve found isn’t enough to clear my mother. Still needing to find concrete evidence of her innocence, by mid-afternoon, it seems like my only option is to go back to the house. Not wanting to go alone, I try to find Cath. But I only see Zoe, in the kitchen, sitting at her laptop. ‘I was hoping to go back to the house. Do you know where Cath is?’
Zoe’s eyes search my face. ‘She popped out a little while ago. She didn’t say when she’d be back. Why don’t you call her?’
I shake my head. ‘Don’t worry.’ I don’t want to put her out any more than I already have. ‘I’ll get a bus.’
Zoe hesitates. ‘Are you sure this is a good idea? I really don’t mind driving you.’
Not wanting to feel pressured by time, I turn her down. ‘Thanks. But I’ll get the bus. I’m not sure how long I’m going to be.’
‘OK …’ Zoe sounds reluctant. ‘If you’re sure? But I’ll tell Cath what you’re doing. I expect she’ll want to come and join you.’
Pulling on my jacket, as I step outside, under the shade of the trees that line the road, the air is cool. Pausing for a moment, I zip my phone into a pocket, before I turn and start walking in the direction of the seafront. It’s a typical February day – grey, the breeze cold where it catches me, clouds scudding across the sky. As I walk, I try to think what the missing pieces of this jigsaw are, knowing the person I need to talk to is Fiona.
Reaching the seafront, I cross over and stand there, gazing at the green-grey waves rolling towards the shore, turning to white foam as they crash onto the shingle. On impulse, I get out my phone and search for a number for Hollis and James, the firm Fiona works for. When I call them, someone answers straight away.
‘Can I speak to Fiona Rose?’
The voice sounds surprised. ‘Ms Rose has been called away unexpectedly, but perhaps I can transfer you to one of our other partners. Can I take …’
I hang up before she finishes. Called away unexpectedly … by the police? Deep in thought, I carry on walking along the seafront, breathing in the clean salt air, feeling the breeze buffeting my face, until I reach a bus stop.
After checking the timetable, I don’t have to wait long. As I find a seat, the bus is half-empty, and as it sets off along the coast road, through the window, I watch a couple of kite surfers. Since moving to Cornwall, I’ve developed a fascination for the power of the wind, the might of the waves and I watch in awe as one of the kite surfers is lifted airborne, before speeding away along the coast. Suddenly homesick for Falmouth, I take a photo, texting it to Rik. Miss you xxxx.
While the bus makes its way towards Steyning, I lean my head against the window, watching the landscape change from busy streets to empty fields, the river meandering through them, trying to think hard. If I wanted to hide something where no-one would find it, where would I put it?
*
As I walk from Steyning up the lane to our house, on edge, I check my phone is in my pocket. When I reach the house, I stand there for a moment, looking up at the windows. I’ve always felt so safe here, but today, for some inexplicable reason, the idea of walking in there alone unnerves me. But for my mother’s sake, I have to do this. Inside, I lock the door behind me, then turn on lights. Like last time, the house is cold and unwelcoming, a feeling that grows stronger as I go upstairs.
In the small study, my
