Twenty-eight #2
She stormed upstairs and slammed the bedroom door behind her.
Grabbing her World Atlas of Wine , she sank onto the bed, opened the book and flicked through the pages, seeing neither the pictures nor the words.
Instead, her mind tortured her, feeding her visions of Kim stroking Ru’s arm, and echoes of his voice accusing Fiona of being evil.
She couldn’t let Kim win. She snapped the book shut, then hurled it at the wall.
What was the point of studying? If she was a convicted thief, she’d be lucky to get a job washing pots.
She must convince Rose of her innocence.
Fiona didn’t need help from anyone; she could fight her own battles.
She’d work out a script, then confront Rose.
Later that afternoon, determined to clear her name, Fiona marched through Brambleton, her jaw clenched. Rose had accused her of being a thief . That word was lodged in her mind like the bitter aftertaste of an immature glass of fine wine.
Emerging from the alley, the cool onshore breeze hit her. She paused, to gather her confidence and spotted Josh leaning against the wall by the back steps. He looked up, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of her.
‘Fiona!’ he said, the warmth in his voice juxtaposed with the autumn chill. ‘Where’ve ya been? Are you working tonight?’
‘London and no,’ she replied tersely. She didn’t want to engage in small talk. Not now.
He exhaled a cloud of vape which curled up towards the pub sign which was swaying gently in the wind.
Josh sauntered closer, a serious expression spreading across his face.
‘Just wanted to say, I reckon you’re innocent.
’ Just for a moment, the brash confidence in his voice made her pause.
She glanced at him, taking in his swagger, the way he stood with an exaggerated casual stance that screamed Australian bravado.
‘If you need any help proving it, I’m your guy,’ he added, hooking a thumb into his belt loop.
‘I don’t need anyone’s help, Josh,’ she said, her tone sharper than intended. ‘I need to speak to Rose. Do you know where she is?’
He shrugged. ‘Dunno. Are you sure I can’t help? I could—’
‘I’m sure.’ She cut him off, the firmness of her voice echoing around the empty terrace.
‘Okay. If you change your mind, need anything ... any backup or ...’
He was standing there, vape smoke trailing up around his face, creating a cloud that momentarily obscured his expression.
Gazing at him, so self-assured, the only person to stand up for her, she felt a deep warmth towards him.
He had always made her feel good about herself, but despite the flirting, had never expected anything in return.
He was uncomplicated and fun. He would make someone a special partner one day.
‘No,’ she said firmly, shaking her head. ‘I must do this myself.’ The wind picked up slightly, rustling the leaves of the nearby trees and carrying the scent of impending rain.
He laughed, then nodded. ‘Dive right in. I’m here if you need me.’
Smiling for the first time in days, she turned her back on him, making her way up the steps. She took a deep breath and pushed the door open, ready to fight for her reputation.
As she hoped, her former boss stood behind the reception desk, phone cradled against her shoulder as she scribbled in the diary. Becky perched on the edge, her skinny legs drumming against the wood.
Alerted by the door opening, mother and daughter looked up.
Rose frowned, reaching out a protective hand toward her child.
‘Fiona’, cried out Becky, her face bright with excitement.
Becky wriggled her little body around so she could scramble down backwards to the floor, then hurtled toward Fiona, gabbling as she ran.
‘Mummy said you weren’t coming to see us anymore, and she said it was something bad you’d done, but I knew she was fibbing ‘cos you wouldn’t do bad things.
’ Becky threw her arms around Fiona’s thighs and spoke the last words into Fiona’s coat.
‘It’s just Timmy and me who do naughty things.
’ Her mother spoke hurriedly into the receiver, ‘All booked, sir. We look forward to welcoming you.’ Rose placed the phone gently back on the cradle and barked, ‘Becky, run along upstairs to Granny now, please.’
‘Can Fiona come with me?’
‘No,’ said Rose softly. ‘We need some grown-up time.’
The child groaned, gave Fiona’s legs a last squeeze, then chirped, ‘Come and see us again soon, Fiona. We love you.’ Fiona’s heart skipped a beat.
She couldn’t think of anything she had done to deserve Becky’s adulation, but she was grateful for the child’s love, given so freely, and thankful, too, that Rose had not poisoned it.
Maybe there was still a chance to regain Rose’s trust.
Rose watched her daughter disappearing up the stairs before speaking. ‘I’m surprised to see you here.’
It wasn’t a reassuring line, and Fiona felt her confidence crumble like a sandcastle hit by a wave. ‘I’d like a word, please. In private.’ Rose scratched her head, then tutted. ‘Let’s do this in the staffroom.’
Marvellous, thought Fiona, just mentioning that room sent a chill through her, but she followed her former boss, mentally running through her speech. Closing the door, Rose took hold of a chairback. ‘Have you come to repay the money?’
That hurt. No pretence that she had second thoughts about Fiona’s guilt. Abandoning her carefully rehearsed script, Fiona fought back. ‘No, because I didn’t steal anything.’
Rose spluttered, shaking her head.
‘I am not a thief.’
Rose drummed her fingers on the chairback, huffed a sigh and without looking at Fiona, said, ‘Just go, and expect a call from the police.’
Her voice sounding desperate, Fiona struggled on. ‘Please, let me speak.’
‘I think you’ve said enough,’ Rose raised her head, glaring at Fiona, a mixture of disappointment and anger in her eyes. ‘You knew that wine was our nest egg. We helped you. I trusted you, let you into our family. Now look at how you’ve repaid that kindness.’
‘Rose, I promise you—’
‘Stop. If that bottle of Champagne wasn’t enough to convince me of your guilt, the next morning—’
Fiona swallowed. What was Rose about to say?
Her mind raced as she struggled to keep her face calm, but her pulse betrayed her, quickening with every second that passed.
By her side, she clenched her fists, willing herself not to flinch.
More proof ? Impossible. She had done nothing.
But the look in Rose’s eyes told her that her innocence might be irrelevant.
Fiona forced herself to meet Rose’s gaze and an icy wave of dread washed over her.
‘You’ve forgotten what you did, haven’t you?
For someone usually so meticulous, you’ve been quite careless.
I was too upset that night to think straight.
I left the bottle of Krug in here – after all, I’d found the thief, I knew it would be safe.
’ Rose’s eyes narrowed, then she added, ‘In the morning when I came to fetch the Champagne—’
Fiona interrupted. ‘I wasn’t here in the morning.
’ Fiona had been nowhere near Devon that day.
Fiona had been on her way to London. To fail that exam.
She dug her hands into her coat pockets, sensing a flicker of hope as she clutched the battered train tickets, her fingers pressing into the paper.
She had an alibi. Proof. Her voice trembled with a mixture of relief and defiance. ‘What is it I’m supposed to have done?’
Rose pulled a yellow sticky tab from her pocket. ‘This,’ she said bitterly.
Fiona’s mouth felt so dry it was like sandpaper rubbing against itself. Her voice cracking, she asked, ‘What is that?’
‘Don’t play the innocent with me. These are the contact details for two top London wine merchants.
You left it stuck to the bottle of Champagne.
’ Rose’s tone switched to sarcastic. ‘They knew who you were. Oh, they both denied you’d been in touch with them in the last few months, but they would, wouldn’t they. ’
Fiona felt her temples throbbing. More damning evidence.
What Rose had in her hands must be the Post-it note with the contact details Fiona had written down for Ru; Kim must have found it when she’d planted the Champagne in Fiona’s coat pocket.
That ghastly night there had been nothing attached to the bottle of Krug.
Fiona would have seen it. Kim must have spotted an opportunity later that evening to attach the incriminating note to the bottle.
‘You are so wrong, Rose.’ She said, her voice wavering. Fiona rushed out of the staffroom, wanting to sprint outside, to feel the cool of the autumn evening wind smart her face, but her eyes were drawn to a couple.
His back was towards her, a well-built frame and a rush of familiarity washed over her – the way he held himself, the curve of his shoulders, and the distinct style of his hair.
Her heart skipped a beat. Ru. The woman had her hand on his arm, and glanced over her shoulder, her eyes shining with the unmistakable lustre of newfound love.
Kim.
Jealousy surged and Fiona bolted for the back door.