Chapter 12 Carla
Carla
NOW
I’ve spent the morning so far procrastinating – something I’m a natural at, especially when I have a tight deadline – and I’m finally booting up my laptop when the doorbell goes.
The noise impinging on my concentration makes me jump.
Cheddar barks and leaps up from where he was sleeping on the rug.
I swear under my breath. It must be a delivery, although I can’t remember ordering anything online recently.
It’s gone midday, but I haven’t had a shower yet and I’m still wearing my PJs and an old, shapeless cardigan over the top.
I zip up the cardie and push my feet into the slippers I kicked off under the desk, go through the sitting room into the hallway and open the front door. I’m surprised to see Ash. He’s dressed smartly, so he’s obviously come from work.
‘I’ve brought lunch,’ he says, thrusting two M&S salads, a loaf of fresh bread and a packet of Red Leicester into my arms. ‘Can’t stay long. I’ve got an appointment with a customer at two.’
Ash doesn’t normally show up unannounced or uninvited.
Or when the kids are out. And it’s a long drive from Barnstaple – an hour’s round trip – just to pop in for lunch.
I look over my shoulder. I’ve had more work come in over the past couple of days and I really want to type up my editorial report and get it sent off today – before tomorrow’s deadline. ‘Your timing’s bad, Ash.’
‘Oh. Have you got someone …?’ He leaves the end of his sentence unsaid, his eyebrows shooting into circumflexes as he looks past me into the house. Then he frowns and blushes, no doubt hearing how that sounded.
‘No, Ash. That’s the sort of thing you …
Sorry. I was working. I haven’t taken the time to get dressed yet.
’ My tummy rumbles and I realize how hungry I am.
‘It’s fine. Come in.’ I step back and let him step inside.
‘I’m just going to grab a shower. Make yourself at home.
’ I point towards the open door to the kitchen.
Ash is in a bit of a hurry, I’m hungry and I’m keen to find out why he’s come, so I make sure my shower is a quick one. I don’t bother to wash my hair, just scrape it back into a ponytail. I’m only gone a few minutes.
When I enter the kitchen, Ash is sitting at the table. His long legs are sticking out from under it. He hasn’t taken off his shoes, forgetting, or perhaps flouting, one of Daniel’s rules.
‘I’ve always loved this room,’ he muses, scanning it.
I described my dream kitchen to Ash long before we even bought Crooked Oak Cottage.
A rustic country kitchen with a long wooden table.
An Aga with large copper pans hanging above it and tantalizing smells emanating from a cast-iron casserole dish on the hob.
Big windows, lots of light. Terracotta tiles on the floor.
Warm, cosy, inviting. The heart of the house, where I pictured myself learning to cook all sorts of delicious meals for my family.
Ash and I tiled the floor and put up the shelves and cupboards ourselves.
It really is my dream kitchen, minus the copper pans.
And the tempting aromas, at least, when I’m the one cooking.
It was once our kitchen. Ash knows his way round it. He has laid the table for our lunch.
We eat in silence. It’s a comfortable one, but I sense Ash has something to tell me and I’m not sure I want to hear it. He waits until we’ve finished eating and he has made coffee.
‘I saw Joshua’s two little brothers – Jordan and Jackson the other day—’
‘Jordan and Jasper.’
‘—smoking a joint.’
‘Go on,’ I say as he pauses. I have no idea where he’s going with this.
‘I think they’re dealing drugs. Weed. They tried to flog some to Millie.’
‘Really? Where was this? Have you told Ian?’
‘It was in front of the Rowlands’ house.
On the night of the party. When I went to fetch Iris.
The Knoll boys were sitting on the garden wall, skinning up.
Yeah, Roly knows they were there. I didn’t tell him they tried to sell Millie some weed, though.
She didn’t buy any, so it didn’t seem important. Did you know she smoked?’
‘What, marijuana?’
‘No. Cigarettes.’
‘Oh. No, I didn’t. Why are you telling me this? Did you drive out all this way to share that with me?’
‘No.’ Ash runs his fingers through his hair and looks away.
I know my ex-husband. There’s something he’s not telling me. But he has clammed up for now. He’s probably been talking to Ian about Josh’s death. Oh God. Maybe the police already suspect our daughter. But I when I put this to Ash, he shakes his head.
‘Roly says they don’t have any suspects yet,’ he says.
I have to ask. ‘Ash, do you think Iris had anything to do with … Josh’s murder?’ The words are barely audible as they leave my mouth. I shouldn’t be asking myself that question, let alone Ash.
‘How can you ask that?’ Ash says.
He sounds shocked, which reassures me a little.
Despite my best efforts, I haven’t been doing a very good job of silencing the voice in my head that keeps reminding me that everything points to Iris.
First, the knife. Then Iris’s reactions when she came home from school that day – or rather, her lack of reaction.
And the fact that no one wanted Joshua dead as much as Iris did.
This can all be explained away. A) I was wrong about the knife – it was there all along.
B) Iris was all cried out and utterly exhausted and in shock by the time she got home – understandably – so she didn’t cry in front of me and she fell asleep.
C) Just because she had a motive and had repeatedly wished Josh dead out loud to me doesn’t mean she killed him.
But now there’s the bloody tissue and the necklace.
I’ve come up with an explanation for that, too, and I try to hold on to it, even as I wonder if I’m clutching at straws.
But I’m finding it harder to convince myself this time.
Even though I’m her mother. I know in my heart that Iris is not capable of such violence.
But I also believe that anyone – everyone – is capable of murder if pushed hard enough. And Iris was certainly pushed.
‘Do you?’ I insist, meeting Ash’s eyes.
‘No! No, of course not,’ he says. I believe him.
Ash thinks Iris is incapable of doing anything wrong.
She’s a daddy’s girl. She’s his blind spot, just as Olly is mine.
‘Listen, Carla, Joshua was probably killed by some grockle he had a run-in with. But you and I both know she’s likely to come under suspicion at some point.
At the very least, she’s going to be questioned. ’
‘Did Ian tell you that?’
‘Roly said they were talking to everyone who knew Josh well.’
I take a deep breath. I wasn’t going to admit this to Ash, but he deserves to know. Iris is his daughter, too, after all. And she and I both need his support. Again. ‘I found Josh’s necklace. You know, the one with the wolf pendant.’
‘Where?’
‘Wrapped up in a tissue in the pocket of Iris’s jeans.’
‘When?’
‘Just the other day.’
‘All right. Well, he may have given it back to her shortly before he died,’ Ash reasons. ‘She resented him wearing it after their break-up, didn’t she?’
‘Ash, the tissue was covered in blood.’ I can hear the panic in my voice. I don’t need to explain my thinking to Ash. The bloody tissue suggests Iris got the necklace back after Josh’s death, not shortly before it.
‘So you think it’s Josh’s blood?’ He sounds incredulous.
‘I don’t know what to think!’ I sound hysterical now. I’m on the verge of tears.
‘Carla, it’s probably Iris’s blood. I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation.’ I can tell he believes what he’s saying. I wish I believed him. ‘Why don’t you ask Iris?’
‘I don’t know if I can now. I should have asked her at the time, but I threw out the necklace.’ I’m doing my best to get a grip, but a sob escapes. ‘And the tissue,’ I add.
I expect Ash to berate me for destroying something that might be evidence. But he doesn’t. Instead, he takes a deep breath. I sense he’s about to tell me something. Whatever it was he went to the trouble of driving out to Crooked Oak Cottage on his lunch break to share with me.
‘I picked up the roach of the joint the two Knoll brothers smoked,’ he says.
‘I gave it to Roly to … for the crime scene … their fingerprints, you know … I just wanted something to send the investigation in a different direction. Away from Iris. I know it wasn’t her, obviously, but I’m scared they’ll come after her.
’ He looks embarrassed. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking. ’
I do. I’m also terrified that Iris will come under suspicion.
But now I’ve found the tissue, I’m starting to suspect her myself, whereas in Ash’s head, there’s not even a sliver of doubt about her innocence.
As usual, though, when it comes to our offspring, Ash and I are working in tandem.
I’m bent on destroying evidence and he’s trying to plant it.
‘Roly wasn’t having it, of course,’ Ash says when I don’t say anything. ‘Listen, I’ll ask Iris about the necklace, OK?’
I nod mutely. I can’t speak past the lump in my throat.
‘Have you told Dandruff about it?’ Ash asks. ‘Sorry, I meant Dan.’
I shake my head.
‘Good. Don’t. Don’t tell anyone else. About the necklace or the joint. Especially not Jo.’
Ash gets up, comes round to my side of the table and squeezes my shoulder. He’s about to leave and I desperately want him to stay, having jettisoned any notions I had of getting any work done today.
‘I’ll ask Iris about the necklace,’ I say, finally finding my tongue. I think it’s better if it comes from me. She’ll get mad if she discovers I talked to Ash about it before talking to her.
‘OK,’ he says. ‘Keep me posted.’
‘Ash, what if the police end up suspecting Iris?’
‘We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it, but we won’t,’ Ash says with a lot more confidence than he can possibly be feeling.