Chapter 30
CHARLIE
Charlie looked up from her book as Simon walked into the lounge.
There was a green folder tucked under his arm.
He dropped it on the sofa next to her, then snatched the novel she’d been reading from her hand.
Noticing her offended expression, he said, ‘You wouldn’t have been up reading in the first place if you hadn’t been waiting for me. ’
‘This had better be worth it.’ Charlie opened the file and tipped out its contents into her lap.
‘Read what’s in there. Carefully. I’ll be back in about half an hour.’
‘You’re going out again? Where?’
‘I need some fresh air, get my head straight.’
‘It’s 2 a.m.!’
‘You want me to restrict my actions based on the position of the sun in the sky?’ he said. ‘I’ll walk to the corner of Offin Street, sit on that bench under the tree for a bit.’
‘Didn’t that kind of thing lead to the invention of Buddhism once?
’ Charlie muttered as Simon headed back out, and she began to go through the bundle of papers.
Mainly, they were diary entries: Jemma Stelling’s.
Handwritten ones from 2006 and typed, printed ones from between July 7 this year and two weeks ago.
Blimey. Here was the murder plan in all its cold, meticulous detail.
It made Charlie shiver. And here, a few weeks later, was the new plan to go to the police and lay it all out: the full confession of intent, in a desperate bid to avoid becoming a murderer ‘on my CV as well as in my heart’ was how Jemma had put it.
It wasn’t long before Charlie saw something she knew was wrong.
The last in a series of emails between Marianne Upton and Tom Tulloch contained an accusation that Marianne had written the diary file on Jemma Stelling’s laptop.
Charlie knew that wasn’t true; Jemma had told her all about the diary she kept on her computer.
Unless Marianne had deleted it and written a new one …
She had a question ready for Simon when he returned an hour later: ‘Why would Tulloch leap to the conclusion that Marianne wrote the laptop diary? I mean, yes, the style’s a bit different, but the 2006 one was written seventeen years ago.
I hope my writing style’s improved in the past nearly two decades. ’
‘Different spelling of Ollie, dates written differently,’ said Simon. ‘Different tense, too. The one from the laptop’s written in that pretentious present tense I can’t stand. Everyone does it these days. It annoys me.’
‘What’s wrong with the present tense?’ said Charlie. ‘It’s where and how we live our lives, so why not write that way?’
‘Reads like you’re trapped in a jar with a buzzing fly.’
‘The style’s neither here nor there, is it?
Anyone can decide to change their writing style – and the different spellings of Ollie aren’t enough to prove Jemma didn’t write the laptop diary.
She’s explained that: Marianne went through the file and changed all the “ie”s to “y”s, either to wind her up or threaten her or … just generally mess with her mind.’
‘Oh, Jemma wrote the laptop diary.’ Simon smiled enigmatically as he sat down on the sofa next to Charlie.
‘So Tulloch’s wrong?’ she said.
‘He is and he isn’t.’ The infuriating smile widened.
‘What do you mean? Simon, it’s the middle of the bloody night – just tell me. You mean he’s not wrong because Marianne did change something?’
‘Nope. I mean—’
‘I know!’ Charlie was determined to get it right. ‘Marianne forged Jemma’s 2006 diary – the handwritten one – in order to make Tulloch believe Jemma was nastier and more deranged about her than she ever really was?’
‘You think the writer of the 2006 diary is nasty and deranged?’ asked Simon.
‘Aha! I’m right, aren’t I?’ Charlie clapped her hands together in triumph.
‘And yes, obviously: the writer of the 2006 pages is a stone-cold bitch, I’d say.
Whereas Real Jemma, in the laptop diary, is more measured, more sensitive …
I mean, she’s also someone who plans murders in a very step-by-step way, like a conscientious teacher planning a school trip …
but wait, Tom Tulloch was at school with Jemma, right?
Wouldn’t he have spotted if this wasn’t her handwriting? ’
‘No,’ said Simon. ‘Think about it. Who were you close to at school? Would you recognise their handwriting now, or spot it if someone had forged their handwriting? Did you exchange lots of letters with your school friends and keep them into adulthood?’
It was an excellent point. ‘No,’ Charlie said. ‘So … Wow, so Marianne forged these handwritten diary entries and sent them to Tulloch, claiming they were Jemma’s?’
‘Nope.’ Simon’s face was expressionless.
‘Clumps of hair are about to be torn out in front of you,’ Charlie warned him. ‘If it wasn’t Marianne and it wasn’t Jemma, then who the hell wrote these 2006 diary pages? Oliver Mayo? Paddy Stelling? Lottie? Can’t be Lottie – this isn’t a thirteen-year-old’s handiwork.’
‘Did you read the bit in the 2006 diary about the “Tyrant’s” favourite cocktail?’
Charlie nodded. ‘Mai Tai, wasn’t it?’
‘I asked Jemma Stelling what her favourite cocktail was,’ said Simon. ‘Guess what she said?’
‘If you think I can guess, then it must also be Mai Tai.’
‘It is. But there’s no “also”.’
‘Simon, I’m going to throw myself out of a window.’ Charlie groaned. ‘And we’re on the ground floor, so hopefully that shows you how desperate I am.’
‘This diary isn’t a forgery by Marianne,’ he said. ‘She’s not writing it pretending to be Jemma, hoping to fool Tom Tulloch or anyone else. She’s writing it as herself.’
Charlie felt her mouth drop open.
‘These handwritten pages from 2006 come from Marianne Upton’s 2006 diary,’ said Simon. ‘And, what’s more, she never said, wrote or pretended any different – not to anyone. Read them again. It’s obvious, once you know.’