Shell House (24 page)

       
“Sorry Dad, miles away. DS Delton gone?” He rubbed his face to bring himself back properly into the here and now.

       
“Yes. He’s got lots of enquiries to make but he said he’d be back as soon as they have any kind of news. He’s sending a police officer to take a statement from me about John Tailby. Bloody stupid if you ask me. I just wanted them to be aware of it, not make a bloody meal out of it.” Harry pulled a chair out from the kitchen table and sat down opposite Jonathan.

       
“Well, they have to make sure they do everything properly. What happened with John Tailby anyway?”

       
“Oh something and nothing. He was drunk; no point making a big deal out of it.”

       
“What exactly did he say to you?” Jonathan stared at Harry defiantly. It had obviously shaken Harry for him to be so cagey about it and Jonathan wanted to get to the bottom of it.

       
“He wanted me to tell you to withdraw your statement or else Gabrielle would get hurt. Well actually, that she’d be found hanging from a tree.”

       
“Oh, is that all?”

       
“Well yes but…”

       
“I was being sarcastic, Dad.”

       
“Oh.”

       
“You should have told me as soon as it happened.”

       
“And what would you have done about it? Hey?” Harry’s voice suddenly sounded dark. “You had enough to sort out.” Harry got up from his chair again and went over to the cupboard under the sink to get a bottle of whiskey he kept there.

       
Jonathan turned in his chair to see what his father was doing. “You shouldn’t drink so much. And why do you keep a bottle under the sink like an alcoholic?”

       
“You’re a fine one to talk about drinking too much. I, young man, am over eighty and I can do exactly what I want. I am on borrowed time.” Harry prodded at his own chest nonchalantly as though he were making a statement to himself and not Jonathan. “And for your information I keep a bottle there for medicinal purposes.”

       
“Sit down Dad. I need to talk to you.”

       
Harry stopped his banter and obediently sat back down in his chair opposite Jonathan, setting two glasses down and pouring them both a whiskey.

       
“Have you thought about what’s going to happen or rather how you’re going to feel if the police discover that Gabrielle is in fact guilty?”

       
Harry breathed in sharply through his nose. “I don’t want to talk about that at the moment,” he snapped, causing Jonathan to sit up in his chair, something he did automatically when he thought they were about to start arguing.

       
“Come on, we’re going out.” Harry thrust himself from his chair, startling Jonathan slightly.

       
“Where are we going?”

       
“To the pub. Come on, get your coat.”

       
“Don’t be ridiculous, we can’t go to the pub.”

       
“Yes we bloody well can. I’m your father so do as you’re told.”

       
“Dad...”

       
“Don’t argue with me, just do it. We’ve not done enough of that sort of thing and we’re bloody well going to do it now. I’m...”

       
“Dad, what are…”

       
“Don’t interrupt me boy with your sensible doctor chit chat.” He flicked his hand dismissively at him. “I am going to the local pub with my son and we are going to hold our heads up. If anyone says anything we’ll be dignified and we’ll tell them we don’t want to talk about it.”

       
“I wasn’t going to lecture you, Dad I was wondering why you put the whiskey bottle in the fridge?”

       
Harry swung round. “Did I?” He opened the fridge and sure enough there was the bottle of whiskey in the door.

       
“Oh. Habit. Thought I was putting the milk away most probably.”

       
Jonathan laughed.

       
“I’m old, son. My brain doesn’t work like it used to.”

       
“Too much booze, that’s your problem.”

       
“I’ve only had one! Go and get your coat you cheeky beggar.”

       
They both wrapped up warm against the early spring chill and made their way down to The Nelson, one of the local pubs near the harbour.

       
Everyone turned to look at them when they walked into the bar, and at first Jonathan felt that maybe they shouldn’t have shown their faces after all. He felt it may have been construed as inappropriate, but he soon realised they were doing it to everyone who walked in and no one actually realised who they were. Conversation would halt and heads would turn towards the door as a few moments of silence ensued.

       
Harry reassured him that just because it had been in the papers didn’t mean everyone knew who they were by sight, and he didn’t care much if they did. Jonathan had hissed at him that of course they knew what he looked like, he was the local GP. But it fell on deaf ears. Harry had spent the best part of his life feeling ashamed in the village and he was determined to end it here and now.

       
Jonathan on the other hand, felt his father was being slightly too optimistic; treading on thin ice. Harry had more or less convinced himself the police had found evidence that would prove Gabrielle was innocent and Jonathan knew this wasn’t the case at all. He thought it a bit premature and distasteful to be arrogant about the whole situation, especially if they turned out to be wrong. But then again maybe it was form for him to feel that way; to assume the worst. He’d spent most of his childhood feeling ashamed and as though he didn’t have the right to live in the village. Children had been cruel to him at school knowing what his sister had done and the stigma had clung to him for many years.

       
At one point he’d begged his father to let him change schools, but he’d just growled at him and told him to get on with it, lost in his own turmoil at the time.   His Aunt and Catherine, whom he went to at different times after school, comforted him and told him that things would get better and eventually they did.

       
It was ridiculous when he thought about what he did for a living and how he saw people everyday and he never felt threatened or ashamed in that position. Yet, put in an environment such as a pub and his old feelings and fears crept back to haunt him, and made him feel guilty.

       
They talked over a few drinks for a good couple of hours and when they decided they were both unbearably hungry they left and went to pick up fish and chips as they made their way home. The smell of their supper was so good they almost stopped and sat on Harry’s bench and ate them out of the paper. But the cold weather and the thought of a warm fire and a hot cup of tea made them change their minds.

       
They were able to talk more openly when they arrived home, the alcohol enabling their conversation to flow more freely than normal, and it was almost like they were completely different people.

       
They chatted and laughed after they’d had their supper and the whole evening had been just what they needed; to step away from all the turmoil for a while and blow the dust of the last few weeks away. And then the conversation turned slightly more serious as they both became tired and maudlin from the alcohol they’d consumed.

       
“Do you honestly think Dad, that Gabrielle is innocent? Really, deep down?”

       
It was a few moments before Harry answered.

       
“I’m going to answer that as truthfully as I can. I honestly don’t know, son. I swing from one opinion to another. One minute I think she couldn’t possibly have done such a thing and then I begin to doubt it. I question my motivation for wanting her to be innocent. Do I want it because I feel guilty? Well of course, but it’s more than that. Apart from the obvious goal of wanting her name clear, in my quiet, still moments I feel she didn’t do it.” He sighed heavily. “What do you think?”

       
“The same as you really. I swing from one conclusion to another. I find it hard to remember what she was like when we were children. I know she was defiant and temperamental but we got on well.”

       
“That’s because you were also defiant and temperamental.” Harry laughed.

       
“Yes, I suppose I was. Can you remember anything in the days running up to when it happened? It’s all a blur to me.”

       
Harry reached for his pipe from the mantel piece and tapped its contents into the hearth before he began to refill it with tobacco, thinking hard before he answered.

       
“It’s a bit of a blur for me too. I remember we’d clashed a lot that week but that could have been because I was stressed and not necessarily due to her mood being any different.” He puffed on his pipe and shifted in his seat.

       
“What is it, Dad?”

       
“When I talk about it I just can’t believe she did it. But why if I can’t believe it now did I believe it then? I feel so bloody desperate about it all.”

       
“But there must have been some sort of evidence to make you think that? It was difficult, Dad. I remember it being an awful time.” Jonathan got out of his chair and went over to Harry’s desk in search of a cigar to smoke.

       
“They’re in the left hand drawer.” Harry waited for him to find the cigars before he continued. “There was evidence and it was all laid out for me by the police but even so, I of all people should know it doesn’t make that person guilty. You’re innocent until proven guilty and I always stood by that vehemently, so why didn’t I feel like that when it came to my daughter, my own flesh and blood?” His voice started to break and Jonathan could see he was getting worked up.

       
“Come on Dad, don’t upset yourself.”

       
“It’s so different when it happens to you personally and I’d battled with her since she’d been born and that seemed to confirm it for me. It was as though I’d run out of patience. I had a lot of pressure from the people in the village and I’m not proud to say it but I knew, even though I wasn’t totally conscious of it that I’d be ostracised if I showed her any signs of support.” He shook his head almost in disbelief. “I’m so ashamed of that. I was so bloody selfish in those days; hot headed and arrogant. All I kept thinking about was how hard everything had been for me and how I couldn’t go through it again.”

       
Jonathan joined him by the fire again and lit his cigar. “You were in shock though Dad. Anyone would have been; it was an awful thing to deal with. I’m sure I didn’t make it any easier for you. And as you said yourself, you thought you had some sort of breakdown.”

       
“You dealt with it surprisingly well, son. I suppose I was protecting you also and I didn’t want you to suffer any backlash from the witch hunt. I selfishly wanted people’s sympathy and pity if I’m honest; not their wrath.”

       
“But then you have to remember that we’re talking from the point of view that she was innocent and that may not have been so.”

       
“Don’t you think I should have supported her regardless? She was just a little girl after all.”

       
“I don’t know, Dad.”

       
“What would you have done had it been Nancy?”

       
“Oh, you have no idea how many times I’ve asked myself that. If I was with Anna and it had happened to us I probably wouldn’t have supported Nancy but who knows? I don’t really know how she would have reacted − we never talked about it; Anna was just disgusted by the whole thing.”

       
“She really changed you didn’t she?”

       
Jonathan puffed on the last of his cigar and threw the stub into the grate, causing the flames to flare. “I wouldn’t say changed, more that she stifled me.” He smiled at Harry. “I’m okay, Dad. I feel relieved she’s gone. That’s all I can say about it right now, I’m just relieved.”

       
“So am I. Bloody woman.”

       
“Why did you never say anything?”

       
Harry breathed deeply. “Because it’s your life, son and none of my business. You wouldn’t have listened anyway; look how we’ve battled all these years.”

       
“We’re not battling now though, are we?”

       
“No son, we’re not. Can we agree on something though?”

       
“What?”

       
“Whatever happens with Gabrielle, we’ll support her?”

       
Jonathan stared into the fire needing to think. Finally he nodded his head. “Of course.”

       
“You need to remember that if she did strangle those children...” he flinched at his own words, “if she did do it; she’s not that person now. She was just a child.”

       
“Suffocated, Dad. She suffocated them, it’s something very different.”

       
“Son, as much as I hate to say it she strangled them with a piece of rope.”

       
Jonathan frowned. “That’s not how I remember it. I was always told they were suffocated.”

       
“Who by?”

       
Jonathan stared into the fire again, trying to recall where he’d heard it.

       
“It certainly wasn’t by me. I’ve never lied to you about what happened. Why would I tell you that anyway? It’s just as abhorrent.”

       
Jonathan got up from his chair and fetched two glasses and some whiskey from the drinks cabinet. Harry’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Don’t lecture me, boy about drinking too much.”

       
“Nightcap, Father. One for the road.” His mind was racing as though there were hundreds of fingers picking through files of memories in his head, desperately trying to find the answer. Then it came to him.

       
“I read it. I read it somewhere.” He handed his father a glass and sat back down in his chair.

       
“Where would you read such a thing?”

       
“Let me think.”

       
“I don’t see what difference it makes anyway. You’ve misread or misheard something. The facts are they were strangled. I read the pathologist’s report and I’ve been over it a million times in my head.”

       
“It’s important. I don’t know why just yet but it is.”

       
After a few moments Jonathan suddenly jumped up from his seat and blundered from the room.

       
Harry sat still and waited; he was too tired to chase after him and put his amateur dramatics down to the alcohol he’d drunk.

       
A quarter of an hour later Jonathan burst back into the sitting room, startling Harry from a doze he’d slipped into.

       
“It’s written in one of her diaries.”

       
It took Harry a few moments to register what he was saying. “Who’s diary? What are you going on about? You woke me up.”

       
“Sorry, Dad. Gabrielle’s diaries. She had been writing one when she was in the safe house and in it she talks about what happened.”

       
“And you read it?” Harry’s tone was dark.

       
“Only parts of it.” Jonathan sat down in his chair, realising what he’d done. “Dad, I wouldn’t have done it if she hadn’t been ill, I promise you. I wanted to see if it would help us understand her situation better.”

       
“Even so, it’s not right.”

       
“I didn’t read any of the others I found. Just this one and I only read the last few pages.”

       
“I didn’t know she’d been writing diaries for years, I thought it was something she planned to do now. In fact she told me she was going to write one a few weeks ago.” Harry thought of the one she said she wanted him to read.

       
“I found quite a few packed away. But I promise you I didn’t read them, tempted as I was.”

       
Harry suddenly thought of his own diary that he’d neglected for quite some time and he wondered if Gabrielle and he had been writing at the same time and about the same thing. Jonathan broke his thoughts.

       
“Dad, look, she talks about what happened the day the twins died and she says in a couple of entries about them suffocating although she does say how she can’t really remember what happened that day.”

       
“Let me see.”

       
Jonathan handed him the notebook. Harry found himself wishing the sentences were highlighted brightly so he wouldn’t accidentally read anything else. It felt like a terrible betrayal of privacy and he was extremely uncomfortable about looking, but he consoled himself with what Jonathan had said and that ultimately it could help Gabrielle.

       
“Why would she write that?”

       
“I’m not sure at the moment but it’s a strange thing to say, isn’t it, if you are sure that’s not what actually happened?”

       
“I’m positive the coroner concluded they were strangled. Trust me; it’s imprinted on my memory.” Harry fixed him with a hard stare.

       
“If it means what I think it means, Dad, then someone’s got to be made responsible for one of the biggest cock ups in history which resulted in an innocent young girl being incarcerated. If we can trust what she wrote in her diary, she didn’t even know how the two children were killed.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

       
Harry and Jonathan had a slow start in the morning mainly due to the alcohol they’d consumed and the copious amounts of coffee they’d drank into the small hours, the combination making them feel tired and jaded.

       
The telephone had woken Jonathan first; it was DS Delton requesting a visit; he had something important to tell them both. Jonathan, with blurry eyes and a muggy head had clambered back upstairs to wake his father. Slightly dishevelled, they managed between them to make a pot of coffee, which they took into the sitting room while they waited in silence for DS Delton. The anticipation of what he had to say hung heavy in the air; they hoped it was what they wanted to hear and would marry up with what they’d discovered in Gabrielle’s diary. But Jonathan couldn’t shake off the niggling feeling he’d had when he heard the police officer’s grave voice, which was suggesting to him it wasn’t good news at all. He busied himself making up the fire while Harry watched; his eyes vacant as though he were somewhere else in his mind. A knock at the door startled them both from their thoughts.

       
“It’s not good news is it?” Jonathan blurted to DS Delton when he answered the door.

       
“No it’s not, I’m afraid. Can I come in?”

       
Jonathan realised he was blocking the entrance; one hand on the door and the other on the frame, as though stopping him from coming in would alter the news somehow.

       
“Sorry. Of course. Come through.”

       
Nausea rose in his stomach and he prayed the news wasn’t too horrific, because he had no idea how his father would cope with it.

       
“Coffee, DS Delton?” Harry stood up when he entered the room and moved towards the tray on the table to pour the policeman a cup.

       
“Dad, leave it, I’ll do it.”

       
“None for me thanks. Please.” DS Delton gestured for them both to sit down.

       
Harry did as he was told, also slightly concerned about what was coming next. He’d assumed it was about some new evidence they’d found and he was eager to show the Detective Sergeant what Jonathan had discovered, but the look on his face and his whole demeanour told Harry he had some very grave news.

       
“I’m afraid your daughter has gone missing from the psychiatric hospital.”

       
Harry and Jonathan both turned to look at one another, their eyes wide with panic.

       
“We have a team of officer’s out looking for her and making door to door enquiries. I take it she’s not turned up here?”

       
“No.” Jonathan answered. Harry was too shocked to speak. “When did this happen? How long has she been missing?”

       
“She was noticed missing at around seven yesterday evening.”

       
“Why did the hospital not inform us?” Jonathan then remembered that they’d been out for most of the evening and neither of them had checked the telephone since they’d got in.

       
“They left a couple of messages and then called us because she’s registered under the Witness Protection Act. They have to follow procedure. We sent an officer round but there was no one here.”

       
“We were out,” Harry said in a matter of fact way, pointing out the obvious because he didn’t know what else to say.

       
Jonathan jumped up from his chair. “I need to go and find her.”

       
“Please sit down, Dr. Rochester. We are doing everything we can to find her and the best thing you can do is stay here with your father in case your sister turns up. Please, I haven’t finished.”

       
Jonathan sat back down concerned about what was coming next.

       
“I want you to understand that what I’m about to tell you doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with Miss Rochester’s disappearance.” Harry and Jonathan both frowned and waited anxiously for what DS Delton was about to say next.

       
“John and Ellen Tailby were found dead this morning.”

       
Silence fell across the room like a blanket of mist as the two men took in what he was saying.

       
“What happened?” Jonathan eventually broke the atmosphere.

       
“We’re not sure yet but it looks as though Mr. Tailby killed his wife and then himself.”

       
“Does anyone know why?”

       
“Not entirely.”

       
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry wanted to know if this was going to drastically affect Gabrielle’s situation, and as sad as he felt about the Tailbys, his only concern was his daughter.

       
“I can’t really say at the moment; it is way too early to know.”

       
It then dawned on Harry why DS Delton had said it wasn’t necessarily connected with Gabrielle’s disappearance. “Tell me what you think this has to do with my daughter? Please don’t tell me you think he’s done something to her?”

       
“We’re not saying that, Mr. Rochester, but due to the fact that he threatened you recently, we have to explore every avenue.”

       
A panic surged through Harry causing him to stand up from his chair as though he’d had an electric shock. He made his way from the sitting room, unable to speak to anyone; he was so choked up with tears.

       
“Where are you going Dad?”

       
Harry didn’t answer, so Jonathan followed him out of the room.

       
“Dad?”

       
Leave me be was all Harry could manage. He put on his coat, left the house and made his way down to the sea.

       
He couldn’t formulate any clear thoughts; the sick feeling in his stomach was dominating his whole being. He didn’t care what happened with the case, he just wanted Gabrielle back or to at least know where she was and if she was safe. It was the not knowing that was excruciating. When he thought about how vulnerable she was it made him feel a thousand times worse.

       
He thought of all the years he hadn’t known her whereabouts and yet now he was stricken at the very thought of her absence.

       
He sat on his bench and digested everything he’d been told. A flurry of questions flooded his mind and he had a sudden urge to leave the sea and go home to talk to DS Delton. But as soon as the urge came it left and he sat back down; he didn’t feel there was any point. His daughter was missing and he wouldn’t settle until she was found safe and well.

       
John Tailby’s threat rang in his head causing him to physically shiver. He looked out to the sea but didn’t feel it could offer him any inspiration or comfort. There were no answers it could give him; he already had the conclusion he wanted in his head.

       
The sea was choppy and temperamental and as daft as he knew it was he felt it was almost arguing with him, being disagreeable and contrary to what he so desperately wanted.