The Lives She Left Behind (31 page)

‘What’s he called?’

‘Ferney.’

‘I’ve never heard of him.’

‘Well, the police called him Luke something.’

‘What police?’

‘These policemen we met in the village. They were looking for him but they wouldn’t say why. Jo said it was okay.’

‘Has she been taking her tablets?’

‘I don’t know about yesterday but she had one the day before,’ said Ali, crossing her fingers though it was technically true.

‘For heaven’s sake. You promised you would make sure she did. Well, I’m not having her rattling round the countryside. I’m leaving here right now and I’m going
straight to this place, wherever it is. Let me write it down. How do you spell it?’

Ali told her.

‘Did these policemen give you their names?’

‘No.’

‘Is there anything else you can tell me to help me find her?’

Lucy hissed, ‘The teacher – you’ve forgotten the teacher.’

‘Oh yes, she said you could get messages to her. Hang on. I wrote it down. A teacher called Mike Martin. He lives in a house called Bagstone Farm. It’s nearby. This is the number she
gave us.’ She read it out. ‘I tried it on my mobile but it didn’t work.’

‘That’s an old code. It needs a one after the zero. Give me your mobile numbers. Have you got mine? I’m going straight there but I may need to get hold of you. I’m very
disappointed in you two.’

When she left Bagstone, Gally climbed the hill to the old stone bench where Ferney was waiting.

‘Did you ask him?’ he said.

‘His lawyer was there. I had to wait for her to go.’

‘And?’

‘Yes, I asked him. I said could we come and stay and he said, “Will that be one bed or two?”’

‘That’s all right then.’

‘No, of course it isn’t. There were tears in his eyes.’ She hunched up. ‘It’s terrible. I can’t ask him again.’

He stood up. ‘I’ll go and talk to him.’

‘Don’t. She’s taking him back to see the police. They still want you to call them. This is their number.’

‘You met her?’

‘She found me in the garden, then she tested us to see if we were telling the truth.’

‘He should never have talked to her.’

‘Ferney, you told him to.’

‘Don’t get caught up with him. Not again.’

‘He’s a kind man. Don’t be unkind. I put him where he is.’

‘Till death did you part. That was the promise you made and death did part you.’

She looked at him and they both knew that was not a simple matter. ‘Let’s go back to the barn,’ she said, but when they climbed the gate, they saw the doors were wide open and
there was a tractor inside, with a pair of overalled legs sticking out from under it and the noise of a spanner turning a screeching nut. Ferney looked at the sky. ‘We’ve got five hours
of daylight, maybe six. We have a right to be in our proper place. I’ll talk to him again.’

She was on the edge of tears as they walked back to the hilltop. He put his arms round her and felt that slight, disturbing resistance before she moulded herself to him. ‘I hate to see you
like this. It shouldn’t be so hard.’

‘I feel so guilty and I don’t know what’s happening to me. I need to know exactly what I did and why. I should be able to remember, shouldn’t I?’

‘It will come. Don’t let it get in the way. Do you know how long it’s been since we were last here together, properly together? I mean at the right age, just the two of
us?’

She shook her head.

‘I lost you years before the war,’ he said. ‘Nineteen thirty-three. You went missing, gone, just like that. I didn’t get you back until you arrived with him in tow
– that man.’

‘Mike,’ she said. ‘You can at least call him Mike. What happened to me?’

‘You were done away with, then the next time went all wrong somehow. We never quite got to the bottom of where you were.’

She looked at him as if she didn’t quite have the courage to ask and he didn’t want to tell her what he knew. ‘I didn’t get you back properly until now,’ he said.
‘Nearly eighty years apart, you and me who fit together like one.’

‘It’s lonely being away.’

‘I promise you there is nothing so lonely as being here by yourself. That’s why it’s us that matters.’

‘But it’s not just us this time, is it? It’s got so complicated.’

‘Let’s pretend it isn’t. Come on, we’ll go and see some more of our old places.’ As evening approached, they walked back to the hilltop, feeling a chill creep into
the air.

‘I expect he’s back,’ said Ferney. ‘I’m going down there. I can make him see he’s got to let us be there.’

‘Let’s both go.’

‘No. I won’t be able to say it the way I need to.’

‘You will be kind?’

‘As kind as I can be.’

As Ferney approached Bagstone, he saw an unfamiliar car parked by the gate and could hear a woman’s voice, raised in anger. He climbed the bank that ran along the road and slipped into the
bushes.

Upset by Rachel’s departure, Mike was carving into the brambles around the yard with a freshly sharpened scythe. A silver BMW stopped by the gate and a woman got out. She
looked at him and called, ‘Is this Bagstone Farm?’

‘Yes,’ he said.

‘Are you Michael Martin?’

‘Yes again,’ he said. ‘Are you from Whitson Saunders?’ He hadn’t expected Rachel to send a replacement so quickly and he found himself resenting this woman’s
presence. She looked polished, self-assured, with expensive hair.

‘No,’ she said, ‘I’m not from anybody. I’m looking for my daughter and I wonder if you might know where she is.’ Her voice was harsh.

‘Your daughter?’

‘My daughter, Jo. For some reason she’s given her friends your name.’

‘Jo?’

‘Yes. Jo Driscoll. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?’

Of course, he thought. She must mean Gally.

‘Oh, I see,’ he said. ‘Don’t stand in the road. Come on in.’

The woman pushed the gate ajar and walked slowly into the middle of the yard, keeping her distance.

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘Jo. Yes indeed, she was here . . .’ Another explanation he couldn’t give. Another woman staring at him with doubting eyes. ‘I’m afraid
I don’t know where she went.’

‘Is she with someone? The girls said she was with a boy.’

With a boy. ‘She could be,’ he said.

‘He’s called Ferney but he’s also called Luke? Is that right? Do you know him? How does she know you? Why did she come here?’

‘Look, you don’t need to be worried.’

‘Worried? I’m bloody furious, that’s what I am.’

‘Would you like to come inside?’ He saw her eyes stray down to his hand and the scythe he was clutching. He put it down but that didn’t seem to help.

‘No, I’d rather stay out here. It’s a simple enough question. How come she’s given them your name?’

‘What about a cup of tea? I could bring it out?’

Another car drove up and stopped.

‘I don’t want your bloody tea,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to go inside your house. I just want to know what the hell is going on and if you don’t tell me,
I’m going to call the police.’

At which point, as if orchestrated by a malign fate, a new voice spoke from the gate. ‘There’s no need to call us, madam. We’re right here.’

Mike saw Detective Sergeant Wilson, accompanied by the same policewoman they had met earlier.

‘We’re from Yeovil,’ said the man. ‘And if you don’t mind me asking, who might you be, madam?’

‘My name is Fleur Driscoll. I’m looking for my daughter, Jo. Her friends told me this man knows where she is.’

‘Her friends would be two girls with backpacks, looking for a girl with dark hair and a red jacket?’

‘Oh God. Have you found her?’

‘No. I saw them yesterday. And she was coming here, was she?’

‘I don’t know. I’m just trying to find out where she is. She’s with some boy named either Ferney or Luke.’

‘Luke Sturgess?’

‘I haven’t a clue.’

‘We’ll need to talk to you, if you don’t mind, but there’s something we need to do first.’ He turned to Mike. ‘Michael Martin, I’m arresting you on
suspicion of the murder of Gabriella Martin and Rosie Martin.’ He stopped as Fleur Driscoll screamed, glanced round at her with a wooden face and went on, ‘You do not have to say
anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’

‘Does Meehan know you’re doing this?’ asked Mike but found himself ignored, turned roughly round by the sergeant, and felt the click of cuffs pinning his wrists together.

Mike was taken to the same interview room and Wilson sat down opposite him. The WPC put her head round the door. ‘We let your solicitor know we were bringing you back
in,’ she said.

‘Why the handcuffs?’ he said. ‘We were coming back tomorrow.’

‘You’ll find out soon enough,’ Wilson answered as the door opened.

A fat fair-haired man with a flushed face followed Meehan in and stuck out his hand to Mike. ‘Leo Avery,’ he said, ‘Whitson Saunders. Seems I’ve drawn the short
straw.’ He looked at Mike as if waiting for a laugh. ‘Never mind. Just skimmed through the old paperwork. Soon be up to speed, I’m sure.’

They went through the same preliminaries as before then Meehan put a sheet of paper down on the table.

‘Mr Martin, where were you on the evening before the death of your wife and child?’

‘The evening before? I was at the cottage and then I drove to London.’

‘What time did you leave?’

‘You’re asking my client for a precise time of departure on an evening sixteen years ago?’ said the lawyer. ‘That’s not a reasonable question.’

‘Yes it is,’ said Mike. ‘I’ve been over it a hundred times. I left at seven in the evening. I heard the news headlines on Radio 4 just after I drove out of the gate, then
The Archers
. It’s carved on my memory, believe me.’

Meehan pushed his sheet of paper across the table to them. The lawyer picked it up and began to read.

‘From our lab people,’ Meehan said, ‘the toxicologists. They’ve gone over the case again. Like I told you, things have moved on. They’ve got a better idea of how it
might have worked. Now they reckon it could have taken up to eighteen hours to produce a lethal effect.’ He looked hard at Mike. ‘That puts you right back in the spotlight, Mr Martin.
By your own admission, you were still at the house eighteen hours before death occurred.’

The lawyer was still reading the paper.

‘Ingredients partially degraded? That doesn’t sound very certain.’

‘Certain enough, they tell me, Mr Avery.’

‘Inspector Meehan, are you telling me they now know precisely how this mixture worked?’

‘Ninety five per cent, that’s what they say. Ninety five per cent is enough for me at this stage.’

‘That’s a bit slender.’

‘Not when taken in conjunction with this.’ Meehan produced a sealed plastic document holder. In it were two scorched twists of paper. ‘I found this with the other evidence.
Again, we didn’t have the technology to enhance it properly at the time.’

‘What is it?’ asked Mike.

‘There were burnt pieces of paper in the fireplace. It’s your wife’s handwriting, Mr Martin.’

‘What does it say?’

‘It’s an incomplete sentence. What we can now read is “unbearable for her to . . .” then a gap, then “tortured by a so much older man”. I believe it said
“unbearable for her to be tortured by a so much older man”. Anything you would care to say, Mr Martin?’

‘Is it your intention to charge my client?’ Avery said.

‘It is my intention to keep him here for further questioning for the time being. We are expecting more detail on the toxicology. I also wish to re-examine the records on your
client’s movements at that time.’

They were left alone.

‘That’s not very good, is it?’ said the lawyer. ‘There’s not much I can do right at this moment. You’re in for the night, I’m afraid. Anybody else I
should be telling?’

Mike shook his head.

‘My colleague, Mrs Palmer, er . . .’ He seemed unsure what to say. ‘She said it was something personal?’

‘Yes.’

‘Would it help to start at the beginning, old chap?’ He looked at his watch.

‘No.’

When he was sitting in his car, about to drive out of the car park, Leo Avery rang Rachel Palmer as she had made him promise he would. ‘I’ve just left him,’ he said.
‘Funny bloke. Wouldn’t lift his finger to help. I’m afraid they’ve got him bang to rights.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Dick Meehan said so. The toxicology is damning. It was the only thing they were short of last time. If anyone knocked off the wife and the kid it had to be him. Now they can put him there
at the right time, it’s open and shut.’

‘Meehan’s not necessarily right.’

‘Dick? He’s pretty sound. I play golf with him.’

‘We need someone to look at that report.’

‘We? I thought you’d passed it over to me, old girl. To be honest, if there’s something personal in this, I would say you should definitely stay out of it. I’ll do my
best, but at the moment I think we’d be better off discussing a guilty plea and thank our lucky stars if we can get some form of mitigation.’

She watched Ferney walk towards her in the quietening evening, wondering what news he brought from down below, still wrestling, as she had been all the time he had been at the
cottage, with the impossibility of making everything work for all three of them.

‘It’s fixed,’ Ferney said when he came to where she sat on the bench. ‘We can stay.’

Her heart leapt. ‘He said so?’

‘We can use the house. He’s had to go away.’

‘Where? How long for?’

‘I don’t know how long. Definitely for tonight. I saw him off.’

She so much wanted to believe it was as easy as that, so much wanted Mike’s understanding, that she didn’t question him further. The simplest fact in her life was that she wanted to
be with Ferney in their old, old home, and they arrived at the door in burning excitement. He took the key from under the flowerpot, opened the door and led her inside, through the hall to
Mike’s untidy study at the back. He switched on the light and pointed.