Chapter 60 Imogen
Imogen
Irene opens the door and doesn’t look surprised to see me.
Her gaze travels over my wayward hair, my jeans that smell faintly of petrol, and the duffel coat I hurriedly threw on to walk Solly.
She looks pristine in a beige-and cream-toned outfit, similar to what she’d worn the other day, and a face full of make-up.
Her eyes narrow. I can see that her fingers are nicotine stained. ‘I knew you’d be back,’ she says. ‘You better come in.’
The same expensive wool coat is hanging over the end of the banister. As I pass it I take the opportunity to peel the corner back so that I can see the lining. It’s torn, a patch of teal satin is missing.
‘Is Bobby alive?’
She arches an eyebrow. ‘Of course he’s bleedin’ alive. He’s in the living room.’
My stomach flips. I’d been half-expecting this, but excitement surges through me at the prospect of seeing him.
‘Hello, Imogen,’ he says as I walk into the room. He’s sitting on a floral sofa nursing a hot drink. With his expensive clothes and his coiffed hair, he looks out of place in this old-fashioned living room. ‘Please sit. I’ve been expecting you.’
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ says Irene, quietly closing the door behind me.
‘So. You’re the lucky one who has inherited all of Dot’s wealth,’ he says with a grin. ‘I was hoping to meet you at some point.’
‘It was you I saw walking the fields that day, wasn’t it?
Have you been following me?’ I perch on a matching chair opposite him and next to the fireplace.
Sun streams through the leaded windows, glinting off a photo frame on the hearth.
It’s a black and white picture of Irene and Bobby when they were kids.
‘We grew up in Tooting Bec,’ he says, indicating the photograph.
‘Our parents died young. Reney basically brought me up. And, in answer to your question, no, I haven’t been following you.
I was just keeping an eye on the place.’ He flashes me a charming smile.
Even though he must be getting on for eighty, he’s still handsome.
He has an elegant gold Rolex on his wrist. I can see why Dorothy would have been so enraptured with him all those years ago.
He has this way of making you feel at ease.
His body is angled towards me, and his voice is husky with a faint trace of cockney.
And then I remember. This is the man who abused Dorothea. This is the man who almost choked her to death.
‘Dorothea thought she’d killed you,’ I say in amazement. ‘Why did you let her think that?’
‘Annette paid me off. She was once a very wealthy woman. Unfortunately, not any more, much to my disappointment.’
‘But … I don’t understand. Why would she let Dorothea think she’d killed you?’
He shakes his head as though disappointed in me.
‘Annette is a conniving woman. She’ll do whatever it takes to make things as she wants them.
She wanted me to disappear so that she could have Dot all to herself, to mould her and manipulate her, and, ultimately, to have a hold over her, and that’s what she did. ’
All this time Dorothea had been trying to escape an abusive man, only to end up with a controlling woman.
I stare at him blankly. ‘Do you know that Annette has been arrested for, amongst other things, the murder of Dorothea?’
‘Ah, well, I’m not surprised about that.’ He waves a hand in the air. ‘Poor Dot. She didn’t deserve that, but then … that’s what you get when you trust people like Annette.’
I want to wipe the smug smile from his face. ‘Can you start from the beginning?’
He leans over to put his mug down. ‘What’s in it for me?’
I glare at him.
‘I’m only joking. I’ve got enough money, thanks to Annette.
’ He chuckles. ‘Okay. Well. Short version. Dot hit me over the head with an ashtray after we argued. Left me for dead. Annette and her sidekick Rosemary whatshername apparently carried me to the car, although I was unconscious at that point so I only have their word for it. I woke up in the middle of Magpie Hill with the two of them looking down at me. Their faces when they saw that I was alive. It was hilarious. Anyway, Annette offered me a lot of money to disappear. She said it would be better for Dorothea to think I was dead. I didn’t care why.
I just wanted the money. I was never going to make much at the factory.
’ He crosses his ankles. ‘So I went along with it. She paid me to go to Australia and set up home. And then she made sure I had a monthly income. Every now and again the payments would lapse so I’d send a little reminder to her, or Rosemary … ’
‘Like a Christmas card?’
‘Yes. Exactly.’
‘But why Rosemary?’
‘She was a rich old bird too and she didn’t want a scandal.
Can you imagine if the world knew that Lady Rosemary Farrington was willing to clean up after her friend?
She didn’t want the truth coming out any more than Annette did.
I must have bled Annette dry, because about eighteen months ago she told me she had no more money left.
I threatened to tell Dot the truth if she didn’t come up with more cash. ’
Revulsion towards this man rips through me.
‘But they didn’t seem bothered. It was like something had shifted. Maybe they thought, hoped, that all these years later I wouldn’t be believed.’ He shrugs.
They were probably more concerned about the truth coming out surrounding my mum, but I don’t say this to Bobby.
‘I had no choice but to pay Dot a visit.’ He leans back against the sofa, smiling at the memory.
‘It was you who left the postcard?’
‘Yes. And my lighter too. I’d like that back, actually, if you have it.
And then, after I left the items for her to find, I decided to drop in on Dot.
Oh, you should have seen her face when she first saw me looming out of the mist. She really thought she was seeing a ghost. After the shock had worn off I told her everything.
About Annette and Rosemary, and what they’d done.
How, for all those years, they’d let her believe she’d killed me.
She’d already begun to suspect the truth, though, thanks to the lighter and the postcard.
Some friends, huh? We actually had a nice chat, in the end.
Parted as … not exactly friends, but not enemies either. ’
‘Did Dorothea talk about going to the police and telling them the truth about Annette?’
‘She never mentioned the police. But I doubt that crossed her mind. She’d get into trouble either way because she’d helped cover it up.’
‘You were in Dorothea’s woods on Saturday, weren’t you? Why?’
His cornflower-blue eyes glint. ‘I wanted to pay my respects.’
‘Were you also looking for the sculpture?’
He throws his hands up in the air and laughs. ‘Okay, you got me. I was hoping I’d find it. Or something of value in that bunker. When I tried to escape through the fence I ripped my favourite coat – well, the lining anyway.
‘Haven’t you got enough money?’ I splutter.
‘You can never have too much money, Imogen.’
I stand up, feeling grubby. I need to get away from this horrible man. ‘The police have taken the sculpture away and there is nothing else of value in the bunker, so you’re wasting your time.’
He raises an eyebrow at me.
‘Goodbye. Thank you for your time,’ I say stiffly. ‘I’ll show myself out.’
‘What do you think you’re going to do now?
’ Alison asks later that evening. We’re on the sofa in the front room and I’ve got the fire going.
We’ve spent hours discussing Annette, Dorothea, Mum.
I’m exhausted and my throat is sore from all the talking.
Was it really only this morning when we went to visit Dad?
I’d only been back home a short while when DI Shirley rang.
‘I’m afraid I have some distressing news,’ she said, her voice grave.
She then proceeded to tell me that Rosemary’s body had been found at a bed and breakfast near Hastings.
‘It looks like she’d taken her own life, but we’re not ruling out foul play either in light of what has happened to Dorothea and Maisie.
Police searched her house and found a bloodied metal ornament that we think her lodger, Peter Bryce, used to attack Dennis.
He has a previous conviction as a teenager for assault although he’s been living with Rosemary for years. ’
‘Did Annette and Rosemary come up with the idea to hurt Dennis together? Because of the biography?’
‘We’re not sure, but it looks that way.’
‘And you think Annette killed her?’
‘It’s a possibility.’
The only way to ensure her secrets were safe. I’ve wondered since whether Warren knows the full extent of Annette’s crimes.
‘I’m going to call Chris tomorrow and ask if I can go back to the TV station soon,’ I say to Alison now, with resolve. ‘Especially now we know that Annette killed Dorothea.’
‘You’ll have to be careful what you write though, won’t you? Because Annette will be put on trial. She’s bound to plead not guilty.’
‘I can start working on the story, ready to publish after the trial.’ I feel confident Chris will go for it.
‘And what about Dennis and his book? Will you take up his offer?’
Dennis must have got wind of Annette being arrested as he’d called me while I was on my way home from seeing Bobby to tell me the publisher has put his book on hold for the moment.
He’d wondered if I wanted to write it with him in light of all the new developments.
I said I’d think about it, but it’s a way of making certain Dorothea’s voice is heard.
‘I’m still not sure,’ I admit.
‘How are you feeling about it all?’ Alison asks. ‘Dad will be released …’
‘It still feels so much to take in. Annette killing Mum …’
We both stare at each other, our expressions mirror images of one another. And then Alison says, ‘I just can’t believe all this. I feel strangely numb.’
‘Me too. I don’t think it’s hit us yet.’
We sit drinking the bottle of wine I’d opened. We’re already on our second glass.
‘What will happen with Dad?’
‘I think he’ll have to go into a hospice or something.’
I nod and take another gulp of the sauvignon blanc.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ I say, eyeing her carefully, not sure that she’ll agree. ‘It doesn’t feel right that Dorothea just left this house to me. It was your mum who died too. I want us to split it.’
Alison almost spills her wine. ‘What? No! You can’t do that.’
‘I want to. It’s too much for me. I’ve already told Josh I’ll sign over my half of the flat to him. We can’t sell the villa for a year …’
Alison frowns. ‘Oh yes, that’s a weird stipulation. I wonder why Dorothea did that?’
‘I reckon it’s because she wanted there to be enough time for me to find the sculpture.
But anyway, you’re welcome to come and live here.
You, Gareth and Lila. The place is big enough that we all get our own space.
I know it means you’d have to get new jobs and find a new school for Lila.
But the schools in Bath are great. Think about it, yeah? Talk it over with Gareth.’
Alison glances out of the window to the large garden only just visible in the gloaming. I can tell she’s imagining Lila playing on the lawn.
My feelings towards Dorothea will always be conflicted. I’m so grateful to her in so many ways, but I’m also angry that she never told me the truth before, about what happened to Mum. I realize that Annette had a hold over her, but it still burns.
Yet that summer had been so perfect. The memory of it is what keeps me going and I feel sad for Alison that she never experienced it. But then I remind myself she has her own memories of our childhood, before I was born, before the drinking and the abuse.
‘This house deserves to be filled with love. Like it was that summer …’ I sip my wine to hide a sudden burst of sadness.
Alison reaches out and lightly touches my arm.
‘I agree,’ she says. ‘That’s what Dorothea would have wanted.’