For a moment I’m back in the school assembly, standing at the front with the rest of my year group and scanning the crowd. Where was Dad? Mum promised me he’d come. The place was full of dads for the Father’s Day celebration but I couldn’t see mine. The crushing disappointment stole my voice and I was unable to join in the singing or even raise a smile.
When we filed back to our classroom my so-called best friend, Amy, lifted her eyebrows, pursed her lips and, with a flounce of her head, said, ‘Told you he wouldn’t come!’
I couldn’t stop myself. My fist flew out and hit her squarely on the nose. The sight of the blood running down her face and the shock in her eyes had been surprisingly satisfying.
‘You’re the reason Dad was like that,’ I say to Mum now. ‘You’re the reason he didn’t love us.’
Mum lets out a low moan and clenches her fists into her hair then hangs her head forward, crying silent tears. They drip off her nose and chin onto the worn carpet. ‘Why does no one believe me?’ she whispers, rocking. ‘I didn’t have an affair. I swear on my life, I was faithful.’
She’s such a liar.
Chapter 10
February | DI Paton
Paton sat at his desk, opened his lunch box and stared in surprise. Inside was a simple drawing of a man with a fat stomach and a cross drawn through it. He moved it aside and saw a chicken salad and chopped fruit in smaller containers. Starvation rations. This must have been Tommy’s doing. He’d been told to watch his weight by the dietician at school due to his weak heart so he’d decided his dad must diet as well. Paton looked down at his flat stomach then got up and walked over to the vending machine for crisps and chocolate to supplement his lunch.
Back at his desk he opened his team’s reports on the HOLMES 2 computer system and started to read as he munched on the tasteless salad. After extensive questioning of firms within a100-miles of the cabin it seemed no one called Richard Newman had booked any taxis or car hire locally. Neither was there any record of that name on passenger lists from flights into Glasgow, Edinburgh and Aberdeen. The only reported abandoned vehicle was a burned-out old Skoda, which they’d traced to a teenage owner.
No one fitting Richard Newman’s description had yet been reported missing. Maybe the man lived alone, which threw out the cabin owner’s theory that he was having an illicit affair. Or perhaps they should have considered whether the person he was with might be the one having the affair. There was nothing from house-to-house enquiries. No one witnessed cars approaching or leaving the cabin. No one noticed cars travelling at speed or being driven erratically nearby.
Paton sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. Who was this man? How did he get there? According to the cabin owner, Richard Newman had booked the lodge several times over the past two years and always used the same courier company, Surefast, to deliver the cash in a plain envelope.
The courier service said they’d met with a man named Richard Newman in a café in Leeds. He’d paid the courier in cash and handed him an envelope to deliver. The courier didn’t ask what was in it. The description of their customer fitted that of the victim.
Paton took a bite of his chocolate snack, leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. It seemed as though everything they looked at hit a dead end. Now the best they could hope for was a link between DNA found at the scene and the DNA Database. Paton had spoken on the phone with forensics yesterday to gather preliminary findings.
The most surprising thing was the pathologist’s report. What were the exact words Frank had used? Defence wounds – that was it. The victim had defence wounds on his forearms, meaning the killer had attempted to stab him several times. No accident, then, and unlikely to have been struck in retaliation to an attack by Newman himself, given that the only blood appeared to be his. Murder, then. Cold blooded murder.
Chapter 11
The Following June | Jenna
‘Faster! Push that water away from you.’
I’m going as fast as I can but these huge, webbed mittens are making my arms ache. The other women in the pool are laughing with their friends as water splashes in their faces and I’m conscious that I’m alone in the class. I look across at Mum, lying on a lounger, watching me take part in the aquarobics class. She gives me a fleeting smile then lowers her head to her book again. I’m disappointed she hasn’t joined in but I knew a spa day wouldn’t be her thing. I told Lucy so, but as always she wouldn’t listen.
By the time the class has finished I’m knackered and need a drink. We go to the coffee shop upstairs, and I fetch Mum a cup of tea and myself a soda and lime, then slip outside to call Lucy.
‘I don’t think this is Mum’s scene,’ I say, thinking, I knew she wouldn’t like it, but you wouldn’t bloody listen! I’d rather have bought her flowers and bath stuff but Lucy had insisted we buy a Henlow Grange spa day to keep Mum out of the way while she set up the party.
‘What have you done so far?’ she asks.
‘Mum just lies on the lounger and doesn’t want to sign up for any exercise classes. She didn’t even
