Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
“I’ll bet it’s Charles,” Lily said, not for the first time.
Sitting on the bench in Boscawen Park, she stared out across the duck pond. After going back to Kingfisher Cottage and talking in circles about their meeting with Martin, Clara had suggested getting out for a walk.
“Johnny and Charles have always been close,” Lily went on when Clara failed to comment on her latest pronouncement that Charles might be Johnny’s biological father.
“That’s what Nancy told me. Roy said Charles was the one to look after Johnny on the night of the fire, and he’s looked out for him since then.
Charles would give him odd jobs. What I can’t figure out is if Johnny knows his true parentage. ”
She turned to Clara, but her eyes had glazed over.
“Are you okay?” Lily asked. “I know I’m saying the same things on repeat, but it’s my way of making sense of things.”
An insincere smile lifted Clara’s lips. “I guess the only way to know who Johnny’s father is would be to ask Samantha. But I don’t see how it’s relevant to the fire?”
“If Charles is Johnny’s father, that would give him more incentive to cover for Johnny if he did it. My earlier theory.”
“I thought you dismissed that idea after you spoke to Johnny.”
Lily nodded. “Johnny didn’t react when I suggested someone started the fire on purpose, which might mean he’s innocent, but it could also mean he’s a psychopath with no remorse.”
“Do you really think so?”
“I don’t want to think that,” Lily said forcefully. “But I don’t like to rule anything out too quickly.”
“You could ask Samantha about Johnny’s father when we see her tonight, but you need to be discreet. Assume that Johnny is ignorant until we know different. That’s not a bombshell you should drop on him.”
“I know.” She also knew that Johnny’s paternity might have nothing to do with the fire. Maybe she’d stir up family drama for no reason.
Speaking of family drama, her gaze snagged on a dad with two toddlers surrounded by ducks at the edge of the pond.
He looked a little flustered as the curly-haired little girls tried to stroke the ducks.
Two swans flew across the pond to join the chaos, at which point the dad scooped up both girls and wrangled them into a double buggy.
“The swan park,” Lily murmured, the words taking her by surprise.
“What did you say?” Clara asked.
“The swan park.” Shifting in her seat, she looked her grandmother square on. “We’ve been here before, haven’t we?”
The tears that welled in Clara’s eyes were an answer in themselves. “Lots of times,” she said with a nod.
“I called it the swan park?”
“Yes. You always loved coming here.” She inhaled a shuddering breath. “Do you remember?”
“Not really.” The memories were at the edge of her mind, she was certain, but just out of reach. “The name just popped into my head.”
“We used to feed the ducks. And you would play on the playground for hours. You’d usually find a friend to play with. Either someone you knew, or you’d make a new friend.”
“Can we walk around to the playground?” It wasn’t really a question – Lily was already on her feet.
A few minutes later, they stood at the edge of the play equipment where several small children ran around.
“It’s not the same now,” Clara said. “It was brightly coloured when you were a kid, and smaller. Just a slide, swings and a roundabout. Monkey bars too - you would make me hold your legs while you swung across making monkey noises.”
Lily waited, but the memories didn’t come.
“Let’s head back,” Clara said, placing a comforting hand on Lily’s arm and breaking her from her trance.
The twenty-minute walk back to Malporth passed almost in silence. At least the little nostalgia trip distracted Lily from thinking about the Westons’ dysfunctional family for a while.
At least until they were approaching the Heron Inn, and Lily spotted a familiar Range Rover pulling into the car park.
“Perfect,” she said. “We can get a drink and speak with Charles Bramford. Maybe we can ask a few questions about his relationship with Johnny Weston.”
“Tread lightly,” Clara said. “You might be way off the mark.”
On a surge of adrenaline, she increased her pace and made for the door. Charles had entered through the back door and was standing at the bar, chatting with the barman.
Catching Lily’s eye, he broke from his conversation and smiled broadly.
“Hi,” Lily said. “I think you know my grandmother.”
His jaw slackened. “Clara. This is a surprise.”
“I seem to have that effect on people,” she said, shaking his hand.
His jaw worked, then he seemed to recover himself. “Could I buy you both lunch? You’d save me from eating alone.”
“Sounds good,” Lily said without looking to Clara for confirmation. It was the perfect chance to chat to him, and she wouldn’t pass it up.
“Thank you,” Clara said, reaching for the menu on the bar. “I’m ravenous.”
They ordered at the bar before moving to a table in the bay window with a view of the river.
“It brings back memories, being with the two of you,” Charles said, wiping beer foam from his top lip. His eyes twinkled fondly as he looked at Clara. “Remember all those barbecues we used to have. I found them tedious at the time, but I look back now and it all seems so idyllic.”
“You were usually arguing with someone, as I recall,” Clara said bluntly.
“Spirited conversation, I call it. Always enjoyed a good discussion with the neighbours.” Frown lines wrinkled his brow. “Whatever happened to you?”
Clara shrugged. “There was nothing here for me anymore. I didn’t want anything to do with the place.
But my granddaughter is back, so it seemed like a good time for a trip down memory lane.
” She cast Lily a conspiratorial look, then switched her attention back to Charles.
“What have you been up to then? How’s life treated you the last twenty years? ”
“I can’t complain,” he said. “We made some good investments, so if I ever feel like retiring, we’re all set.”
“How’s your wife?” Clara asked, but didn’t leave space for an answer before firing off her next question. “Do you have any children?”
Lily had just taken a mouthful of Coke and put a hand over her mouth as she choked on it. “Sorry,” she said, feeling the fizzy liquid in her nasal passages. “Went down the wrong way.” She looked quizzically at Charles, not wanting to distract from the question.
“No children,” he said. “Unfortunately that wasn’t on the cards for us. That’s the way life goes sometimes, isn’t it?”
Clara smiled politely, and an awkward silence fell between them.
“Are you enjoying being back in the area?” Charles asked, eyes on Lily. “It must be emotional being in Malporth but have you been able to explore Cornwall too? Is it a good break from London?”
“We went into Truro today,” she said, following her grandmother’s lead with the directness. “We visited Martin Weston.”
“Oh.” He dragged his fingers through his beard. “Can’t say I’ve seen him for a while. How’s he doing?”
“Hard to say,” Lily said. “He wasn’t entirely happy to see us. We wanted to know where he was on the night my parents died. He didn’t seem thrilled by the question.”
Charles rolled his eyes. “I told him back then he should come clean. Lying at a time like that was bound to cause more problems.”
“You knew he wasn’t at home?” Lily asked.
“I took Samantha and Johnny inside that night. Tried to comfort them. When I sent Johnny to wake his dad, Samantha stopped him with some bizarre excuse. Once he was out of earshot, she explained the situation.” He blew out a steady breath. “I never liked the man, and that cemented it for me.”
“Why didn’t you tell the truth back then?” Clara asked.
“If the police would have asked me directly, I’d have said something. But they didn’t. Martin claimed he was keeping quiet for the sake of his children.”
“Do you believe that?” Lily said, confused by the cynicism in his words.
“I believe he was trying to protect one of his children. But even then I think he was really protecting himself. Nancy doted on him back then. He didn’t want to ruin that.”
“You know Johnny Weston well,” Lily remarked. “He works for you sometimes?”
He nodded. “He turned out well despite everything.”
Lily rested her elbow on the table, perching her chin on her hand. She opened her mouth to speak, but Clara got in first.
“Is Johnny Weston your son?” she asked.
Shock widened Charles’ eyes before a spluttered laugh escaped him. “Is that a serious question?”
Lily and Clara nodded in unison.
“I have never been unfaithful to my wife,” he said with a frown. “No, he’s not my son. Why would you ask that?”
Lily straightened up. “Do you know he’s not Martin’s biological child?”
“Who did you hear that from?”
“Martin,” Lily said.
Charles pressed his thumb against his chin, seeming to mull the information over. “I suppose that explains why he never seemed to give a damn about the poor kid.”
“You didn’t know?” Clara asked.
“No.” He swallowed hard. “And I’m not sure I believe it. If it’s true, and Johnny is aware of it, he’s never mentioned it.”
Lily raised an eyebrow. “Do you think he’d confide in you?”
“Yes. He’s talked a lot about his relationship with his father.
When he was younger, he often told us his dad hated him.
It was heartbreaking. I’m sure he’d have told us if he were aware.
” He shook his head. “You need to keep it to yourself. Johnny has enough to deal with without you springing that on him.” He lifted his beer, but paused before it reached his lips.
“Though maybe it would be a relief for him.”
“How did the two of you get so close?” Clara asked.
“It was my wife who was concerned about Johnny to start with. She’d always said it was sad how he was so overlooked and Nancy got all the attention, but after the fire…
” He cast a sympathetic glance in Lily’s direction.
“He was there that night and saw everything. I spoke to his parents a few days later, suggested he might need some counselling. I was shaken up, so I don’t know how a kid can be expected to process it. ”
He took a long swallow of beer. “Anyway, Martin wouldn’t hear of it. Told me to mind my own business and made some remark about how it’d be a waste of money.”
“Sounds about right,” Clara remarked.
Charles gazed sadly out of the window. “Our living room window overlooks the Westons’ house.
Serena used to see Johnny sitting in his bedroom window for hours on end, just staring blankly.
She was worried and invited him over a few times when she saw him coming and going, but of course he didn’t want to come and hang out with the neighbours. ”
He flicked his gaze to Clara. “So she asked him to mow the lawn and do some gardening. She thought that having something to do might be good for him. Then she kept insisting we find more jobs for him. Eventually, he relaxed around us. He opened up about the night of the fire and about how much his parents argued. He was a good lad and he’s grown into a decent man. ”
“Martin didn’t have anything good to say about him,” Lily mused. “It can’t have been pleasant growing up in a house like that.”
Charles nodded, then moved the conversation on, asking Clara where she lived and what she’d been doing with herself. The idle conversation continued as they ate, and Charles spent a good while describing their house in Tuscany, which seemed to be his pride and joy.
He didn’t linger after the meal, just paid the bill and thanked them for their company.
Lily watched him walk out the door. “He seems like a decent enough guy once you get to know him,” she remarked.
“He’s clearly fond of Johnny,” Clara said. “It was good of him and Serena to look out for him the way they have.”
“Yes. Although I’m not convinced they were so close that he’d have covered up a crime for him. And he seemed too relaxed when we spoke about the fire.” He’d had the usual awkwardness that people had when they spoke to her about it, but she didn’t pick up on anything more than that.
“I don’t think he had anything to do with the fire,” Clara said.
“Me neither.” Lily stared outside at the sunlight twinkling on the water. She wasn’t about to rule him out completely, but she didn’t feel the need to focus on him either.
Hopefully, dinner at the Westons’ might throw up more clues.