Chapter Thirty-two #2
‘Partly,’ said Thelma. ‘After all, Robin Hood’s Bay is at least a good hour and a half from here.
But also, it was very important to her that she protected all the staff and friends of Davey Fletcher.
When Neville was to be murdered, she wanted them all together, a safe distance away so they would be beyond suspicion. ’
‘What I don’t get,’ said Ffion, ‘is how come Nev didn’t clock this woman and know who she was. I mean she was staying here the best part of three weeks.’
‘Do you often see your tenants?’ asked Pat.
Ffion conceded the point. ‘Only in passing,’ she said. ‘Some you don’t see at all.’
‘And anyway,’ said Thelma, ‘when Bun was staying here, she altered her appearance.’
‘How?’ said Donna. ‘Like a disguise – a wig or something?’
‘It was simpler than that,’ said Pat. ‘It wasn’t so much what she did as what she didn’t do …’
‘Here we have a striking woman,’ said Thelma. ‘Scarf in her hair, bright clothes, heavy make-up—’
‘Kohl eyeliner,’ added Pat.
‘Take away those things,’ said Thelma. ‘No make-up, no bright clothes – hair under a beanie hat – what do you have? A nondescript late-middle-aged woman – the type of person who passes largely unnoticed.’
There was a brief, understanding pause.
‘When Friday came,’ said Thelma, ‘Bun made a big point about being seen checking out from the Snuggery, making sure Sidrah saw her.’
‘Making some cock-eyed comment about hydrangeas,’ added Liz.
‘Then she parked up out of sight behind the playing fields and returned to the house by the back way, joined in the memorial service, phoned Neville – and waited for him to come home,’ said Thelma.
‘When he did, she called him into the flat and she confronted him, telling him what he’d done, producing the knife—’
‘And completely out of the blue, Nev had a heart attack and dropped down dead in front of her,’ finished Pat.
‘Really,’ said Thelma, ‘it must have seemed like providence to her. She didn’t have to go through with her plan after all, so a lot of her preparations – like cleaning the flat – were unnecessary.
If she’d stopped to think she could have called 999 and no one would have been any the wiser.
’ She looked at Ffion. ‘But then you came home unexpectedly. Bun must have panicked. She thought you’d gone away for the weekend – she’d no way of knowing you were only popping in and out.
All she knew was she had to get out as quickly as she could, which is why she didn’t paint the wall back grey again and stuffed the knife in the dishwasher.
’ She nodded. ‘It puzzled me did that dishwasher.’
‘What did?’ asked Donna.
‘The contents,’ said Thelma. ‘The fact it had vegetable dishes and three plates – not the sort of washing up a person on their own would generate. And then I realised – it was all stuffed in at random to camouflage the fact Bun wanted that knife washed clean of her fingerprints.’
‘Even though she hadn’t used it?’ said Donna.
‘She was panicking, remember,’ said Liz. ‘You do all sorts of daft things when you’re in a fluster.’
Donna frowned. ‘Suppose everything you say is true – and incidentally I have no problem believing it is – but why do all this in the first place?’
‘That’s what I was gonna say,’ agreed Ffion. ‘I mean okay, she sounds off her chunks this woman, but it’s all a bit extreme—’
‘Okay Neville did a bad Ofsted report, which ruined this school and led to the death of that poor lad,’ said Donna. ‘But it’s not like she was the head teacher. She has her own very successful business. Why put all that in jeopardy?’
Pat, Liz and Thelma exchanged glances. It was Thelma who spoke. ‘Annie Golightly,’ she said. ‘They’d been friends since college days. They were both at Bretton Hall together – Bun mentioned one of her tutors to us, Annie named her bungalow after the place.’
‘They’d been friends for over forty years,’ said Liz. ‘Nearer fifty. She was right cut up when Thelma mentioned her at the garden centre.’
‘They’d both been working as teachers in Africa together,’ said Pat. ‘Mombasa, in Kenya. It wasn’t hard to find out with a bit of digging online.’
‘And what – they were having a thing?’ said Ffion bluntly.
Thelma shook her head. ‘Not latterly,’ she said. ‘Though they might well have been lovers at some point. But they had a shared passion – education.’
‘Primary education,’ amended Liz.
‘It’s a stronger bond than you might imagine,’ said Pat. The three ladies shared a smile.
‘You’d have to be a teacher to understand,’ said Thelma. ‘Over the past twenty years in this country there’ve been some trends in education that many people have viewed in a very negative light.’
‘Academisation,’ interjected Liz darkly.
‘Suits and money over ideals and playdough,’ put in Pat.
Thelma looked sombre. ‘Neville’s almost casual attack on the school her friend had built – a school that embodied their ideals and beliefs – must have been very difficult, especially when that attack resulted in the destruction of the school.
And, even worse – the absorption by a hated academy. It would have felt personal.’
‘More so for Bun,’ said Pat. ‘Annie was facing her own destruction.’
‘And then to cap it all, Davey Fletcher died,’ said Liz.
‘That was the lad who went off the road? In a blizzard?’ asked Donna.
The three nodded.
‘Being close to Annie, she knew how much her friend cared for him,’ said Thelma. ‘How Annie worried about how Davey would cope when the report came out, when the whole world would read what Neville Hilton had written. I believe she felt she almost had a duty to protect him.’
‘When Davey had that crash, he was on his way to see Bun,’ said Pat.
Donna frowned. ‘How do you work that out?’
‘He crashed on the A171,’ said Liz. ‘Which if you look at it on the map, you’ll see it leads almost directly to Robin Hood’s Bay.’
‘Son told me they had a friend who was an adviser,’ said Pat. ‘And that was Bun. Davey probably rang her up the day before the report was due out, and she’d have told him to come over. So, despite the bad weather he set off.’
‘I could tell Annie knew where he’d been going,’ said Thelma.
There was brief, sad silence.
‘That poor lad,’ said Ffion.
‘When Neville heard about the crash,’ said Liz, ‘he must have felt very bad himself.’
‘Only, Nev being Nev,’ said Pat, ‘he just carried out a letter-writing campaign complaining about driving conditions of the A171.’
Ffion nodded. ‘That sounds exactly like Nev,’ she said sadly.
Liz flushed slightly, hoping Ffion wouldn’t ask exactly how they knew about Neville’s letter-writing campaign.
‘So, what’ll happen to this crazy woman?’ said Ffion. ‘I mean, is she going to be charged with anything?’
‘Like what?’ said Donna. ‘Painting a wall? Loading a dishwasher inappropriately? I mean we could look at charging her with not reporting a death – but it’s all circumstantial. She spoke to Ian, my colleague.’ She shrugged. ‘But as I keep saying, no crime was committed.’
‘But one was planned,’ said Liz.
Donna nodded. ‘But they’re very different things,’ she said. ‘And – as we keep coming back to – we haven’t got much evidence.’
‘So, she’ll just get away with it, I suppose,’ said Liz, lips thinning.
‘In her own eyes she’s done nothing wrong,’ said Thelma.
‘Especially as she hasn’t actually killed anyone.
’ She shook her head. ‘I’d imagine she feels totally vindicated.
That’s the trouble with committed, passionate people – they often have very strong self-belief, which can dull their sense of what’s right and wrong.
’ She sighed. ‘And particularly in this day and age, I’m afraid there’s many such people in positions of power in our society. ’
‘But then,’ said Pat, ‘her best friend is dead, remember, the friend she loved and was inspired by, plus the lad she was looking out for.’
Hey, Mrs Kohl Panda, what can you see from your lonely house on a cliff?
A shrill peep disturbed the still of the room.
Donna Dolby clapped her hands to her knees again and stood up.
‘I must be away,’ she said. ‘And remember, I wasn’t here.
’ She looked at Thelma, Pat and Liz. ‘Which means,’ she said, ‘I haven’t heard any of this, so course I can’t say well done, that’s amazing work. ’
After she’d gone, Pat, Thelma and Liz looked in concern at Ffion.
‘And you,’ said Liz, her voice warm. ‘How are you?’
‘Oh, you know,’ said Ffion and shrugged. ‘Getting there.’
‘Will you be all right?’ asked Pat.
Ffion nodded. ‘I’ll be fine,’ she said. ‘There’s Sidrah and Zippy coming round in a bit. They want to talk about some idea for reopening the village playing field. Though who’s going to play on it, God only knows.’
‘Won’t that be a bit noisy for you?’ asked Pat.
Again, that shrug. ‘I dunno,’ said Ffion. ‘Be nice to hear a bit of life going on. This village can be like a bloomin’ morgue sometimes.’
At the front door as the three were taking their leave, Thelma said, ‘I imagine that was all quite hard to hear.’
‘It was,’ admitted Ffion. ‘I mean typical Nev, Mr Pedantic and all that. It was always the same – his way or the highway. What he did to that school—’ She looked at the three of them.
‘But hearing how he died. I mean, I make no secret of the fact that he wasn’t the love of my life, but even so.
Talking of lack of love, I’m going to give Jax some money. ’
The three tried not to look surprised.
‘That’s very good of you,’ said Liz. She could have added and it’s totally undeserved but naturally she didn’t.
‘I dunno.’ Ffion looked awkward. ‘I reckon it’s what Nev would have wanted,’ she said. ‘Like I say, I never loved him, not really, but at least I can do this one thing for him.’ She sighed. ‘I don’t reckon I knew what love was till I bought my first Cleveland Bray.’
More than once whilst driving through Hollinby Quernhow, the mussel-blue Corsair hit a puddle, sending curtains of muddy water over the straggly verges.
‘I can’t get over how different it is,’ said Liz.
‘One extreme to the other,’ said Pat. ‘They’re giving out flood warnings in York. What’s that all about?’
Outside the Old Police House, a bedraggled-looking family could be seen dashing in out of the rain.
‘Poor things,’ said Liz. ‘I hope they’re having a good holiday.’
‘It wouldn’t suit me,’ said Pat as the last houses faded into the rain. ‘I like somewhere with a bit of life going on.’
Thelma laughed. ‘I rather think,’ she said, ‘that Hollinby Quernhow has had more than a bit of life going on recently.’
‘I tell you something,’ said Pat. ‘It’s good to see you back driving again.’
‘And thanks for picking us both up,’ said Liz.
‘Not at all,’ said Thelma. ‘More than happy to. And run you back home.’
‘Unless …’ said Pat. ‘I was wondering if you had time for a coffee at the garden centre?’
‘I’m in no rush,’ said Liz. ‘Our Jacob’s doing something with courgettes.’ She rolled her eyes mournfully.
‘I’m not due at the charity shop until three,’ said Thelma. ‘Why, was there something you wanted to tell us?’
‘Not about Neville Hilton,’ said Liz. ‘I’ve had about enough of dark goings-on for now.’
‘Nothing like that,’ said Pat. ‘It’s just we’ve had the first sonogram of the baby. I wanted to show you, but it didn’t seem right before.’
She was about to say more but Liz and Thelma interrupted with that noise lady primary school teachers are so good at: a joyful exclamation at the anticipation of coffee and some exciting news to celebrate and mull over.