The Other Child (58 page)

So – a job. That was the first thing. That was the starting point for everything else. She would look in the papers. Maybe even put in an ad herself. After all, she was a teacher. She had studied English and Modern Languages. So she could offer private tuition. And perhaps she could teach an adult education course like the ones on offer in Friarage School. She would enjoy teaching a French class two or three evenings a week. Maybe she would even make new friends.

Thinking of Friarage School made her think of Dave Tanner. On the drive back to Leeds from Staintondale there had been something at the back of her mind, some question, but she was so absorbed in her plans for the future that she had not tried to tease it out.

Now she remembered the images of yesterday afternoon. Dave Tanner had been sitting in the living room with Colin when she and Gwen returned from town. They had exchanged a few banalities and then Jennifer had hurried upstairs. She had wanted to be on her own, with Colin, to tell him about her thoughts and plans. Nothing else had interested her.

She closed the kitchen door and walked over to the dining room where Colin was studying some official letter with a frown.

‘The contributions for our pensions—' he began, but she interrupted him.

‘Colin, why did Tanner come to the farm today? He seemed so self-absorbed when the two of you were sitting by the fire …'

‘The boy's finally come to his senses,' said Colin without looking up from the letter in his hands. ‘I mean, that idea of marrying Gwen … no one liked it, and no one had a good feeling about it.'

Jennifer could feel the hairs rising on her arms before she knew why. ‘And?' she asked.

‘He wanted to tell her,' said Colin. ‘And of course he felt pretty uneasy about it, the poor guy. Well, I came along at the right moment, to help pass the time.'

‘What?' said Jennifer. ‘What was he going to tell her? And who is “her”? Gwen?'

‘Of course Gwen. Who else?' replied Colin, finally glancing up. ‘He wanted to tell her that the idea of a future together no longer made any sense to him, and that it would be better if they would go their separate ways. Something like that. I think it's only sensible. She never was his great passion, and she had just created a fantasy which would never have stood the test of reality.'

The tingling on Jennifer's arms could not be ignored. ‘God,' she said quietly.

‘Better a horrible end than a horror without end,' suggested Colin. ‘It's hard for Gwen, but don't you think she's already had an inkling for a while? She's not insensitive. I can hardly imagine that all of this will come out of the blue.'

‘But the decisive moment is always …' She did not say anything else. The fear rising up in her threatened to overpower her.

Keep calm, she told herself. Maybe you're just seeing things.

‘I think I should give Gwen a call,' she said.

Colin did not think so. ‘She has to get through this on her own. You can't do everything for her.'

‘In a situation like this we all need someone,' replied Jennifer. She took the cordless phone off its dock on the dining table and dialled the number of the Beckett farm. She waited nervously. No one answered.

She tried again. Still no answer.

‘Strange. They must be there. Chad at least. And Gwen too, actually.'

‘You know Chad. He's a loner. He might not feel like answering the phone right now. And Gwen is probably bawling her eyes out.'

‘She could still answer the phone.'

‘She'll get by without you. She has to. After all, there's nothing you can do for her.'

‘I've got a very bad feeling.'

‘She's not going to commit suicide, not Gwen. She might be a fragile creature, but she has good, down-to-earth farming blood in her veins. She'll cope.'

‘I wish I was there,' said Jennifer uneasily.

‘Why?'

‘So I could be sure that everything was all right.'

‘And what wouldn't be all right?'

She stared past him out of the open window. ‘If Dave told her that he was breaking it off—'

‘—then life goes on somehow for Gwen,' said Colin impatiently. ‘Jennifer, all of us have had to come to terms with a situation like that sometime. You think the world's collapsing and then afterwards you realise that it goes on as reliably and stably as ever. Gwen will see that.'

She still was not looking at him. ‘I'm not worried about Gwen,' she said in the end.

Colin frowned. ‘Who then?'

She turned to look at him. He saw that she was as pale as a corpse.

‘I'm worried about Dave Tanner,' she said.

17

The phone had rung a number of times. Reflexively, Leslie's hand went to pick it up, but Gwen's voice had cut in. ‘No! Leave it! No one's in!'

They were standing facing one another in the little room. Leslie was by the desk and Gwen in the doorway. The lamp was on, the computer still hummed. It could have been an absolutely normal situation: two women meeting in a study at the end of the day. If one of the woman had not been aiming a revolver at the other.

This is a nightmare, thought Leslie, an absurd nightmare.

She tried to understand what on earth was going on, but she felt like someone who had lost the thread of a conversation and is suddenly faced by a phrase that is completely unintelligible to them. It was as if Gwen, the Gwen holding the revolver, had suddenly dropped into the scene from the heavens. Someone, an invisible director, should shout
Cut!
The plot had escaped him and now it was high time to try to wrest control of it again. But no one called
Cut!
No one stepped in. Leslie was faced with trying to make sense of what was happening on her own.

‘Gwen, what is it?' she had asked after the first horrific seconds, and Gwen had smiled.

‘What do you think it is? I'm taking my life into my own hands. I'm doing what all of you have always told me to do.'

‘What we told you to do?'

‘Why are you hanging around here, anyway?' Gwen had asked. ‘Looking for Dave? You like him, don't you? Attractive man. You thought you could get him to bed with you, now that he doesn't want me, did you? There's been an empty space next to you for ages!'

At that point Leslie had still not understood. The mention of Dave made her recall the words Chad had stammered out.

‘Gwen, your father warned me about Dave. He's dangerous. He's almost killed him. He …' She stopped then, because realisation started to dawn.

‘Did
you
shoot your father?' she asked instead.

Gwen smiled again, a strange smile which contained no happiness. ‘Clever, Leslie! You always were clever. Leslie, our super-clever girl! You've got it in one! I shot my dad. And if he said anything about Dave, then he was probably wanting to let you know that he could do with your help. He's down in our bay. Shot. It'll be dicey for him when the tide comes in in the morning. But that's not my problem.'

The phone rang before Leslie could answer. By then she had been cured of all doubt that Gwen would make use of her gun, so she obeyed her former friend's order and left it. When the ringing began again after a few seconds' silence, Leslie's fingers stayed absolutely still.

‘Well, the question is, what am I to do with you?' wondered Gwen. ‘Pretty stupid of you to come here, Leslie. Oh yes, we haven't got to the bottom of that, have we. It was because of Dave, wasn't it?'

‘Not in the way you think. I thought Dave had done it. That he had murdered my grandmother. And I feared for Chad. I thought that Brian Somerville could be the motive. For him and Semira Newton. So Chad would be in danger too.' She looked carefully at Gwen as she mentioned the two names, but Gwen's smile was frozen onto her face.

‘Charming,' she said. ‘Taking such care of good Chad! Did he give you Fiona's emails? Or Jennifer?'

‘Colin did. He gave them to me.'

I managed to get the story round,' said Gwen smugly. ‘I thought somehow that it would spread if I told Jennifer. The story will reach the police too. And then it'll be clear who killed Fiona and Chad.'

‘Semira Newton?' asked Leslie. ‘Who can barely move even with her Zimmer frame? Or perhaps Brian Somerville? From what I've heard he's gormlessly heading towards eighty in a care home, with the mental age of a pre-schooler. You seriously think you could hang two murders on them? And you expect someone to believe you?'

‘Ever heard of contract killings?'

‘Yes. But only Semira would have the intelligence to do that. And apart from the fact that she barely has enough money to live on, so you'd wonder how she could pay the unknown killer, she's just not the type. No way. Valerie Almond would quickly see that too.'

‘Oh, Valerie Almond,' said Gwen scornfully. ‘She's simple-minded. She has no idea of psychology. She got the wrong idea about me too.'

Like all of us, thought Leslie, shivering involuntarily. Out loud she said, ‘And how does Dave fit in? Shot or drunk, he'll be found. And me? If you plan to bump me off too. How do I fit your theory about an old lady's belated acts of revenge?'

Gwen appeared for a moment to be unsure, but then quickly pulled herself together. ‘You two got in the murderer's way.'

‘Dave down in the bay and me here? Gwen, you … you're going postal. This isn't going to end well for you, believe me.'

‘This isn't going to end well for
you,'
replied Gwen. ‘That's how you should see things, my dear.'

‘I find that hard to believe,' said Leslie, although she was not sure if she should believe herself.
‘We've
always been friends, Gwen. We've known each other since we were little. You wouldn't just go and shoot me.'

‘I've known my dad longer than I've known you,' replied Gwen, ‘and Fiona. Didn't bother me. Not at all.'

Leslie gulped. ‘Why, Gwen? I just don't understand – why?'

‘Of course you can't understand. How could you? Your life has been a dream. You have no idea how people feel who don't have it as good as you!'

‘My life has been a dream?' asked Leslie, amazed. ‘How can you say that? I'm divorced, lonely and frustrated. I spend my weekends on call or with too much alcohol in front of the telly. No one cares about me. My work colleagues and my old university friends, who I regularly call to try to arrange to meet up, are all busy with their family life and have no time for me. That's what my dream life looks like, Gwen. Nothing else.'

‘You could change it at any time.'

‘How?'

‘Men are queuing up for you. It didn't work with Stephen, so marry the next guy. It's not a problem for you.'

‘I'm afraid I haven't noticed the queue yet.'

‘Because you don't want to see it!' Gwen fumbled around impatiently with her gun. ‘Dave, for example. He had the hots for you. And don't tell me you hadn't noticed!'

Leslie was forcibly reminded of the night before in her grandmother's kitchen. She did not reply, but Gwen might have seen some change in her expression, because she laughed triumphantly. ‘Well then. You know exactly what I mean. And he's not the only one. Stephen would practically kill himself to put himself back in your good graces. You'd just have to snap your fingers. You have a number of directions open to you, and whenever you come out of that paralysis which Stephen's little unscheduled screw has put you in, then you'll walk off happily into the sunset.' She paused, and glanced at her gun. ‘That is, you could have. But of course it's all going to be different now.'

‘You need help, Gwen.'

Gwen laughed once more; this time it did not sound triumphal. There was something hysterical in it. ‘Fantastic, Leslie. Truly fantastic! I need help? In the last minutes of your egocentric and completely self-centred life, you suddenly realise that good old Gwen needs help. Too true. Damn right I do. I need help. I needed help years ago. But none of you cared then.'

‘Whenever we saw each other …'

‘Which did not happen all that often, did it? Twice a year? Busy Dr Cramer would rarely come from London more often than that to see her grandmother. And yes, each time a duty-bound visit to the Beckett farm.
I'll just come by for a quick coffee, Gwen!
Quick! Always with a time limit so I wouldn't get any idea of asking for more from you than you were ready to give – which was never much. You found the farm boring, and you found me boring! I never had much to say. What could I have told you about? About my struggle not to break down? Of my efforts to get by with my dad's meagre income? Of my attempts to attract paying holidaymakers and yet only ever getting Jennifer and Colin, who I could no longer bear to see, but who I had to pamper so they didn't leave too? Riveting stuff, isn't it?'

‘You could have just said the truth. That you weren't doing well. That you needed help.'

‘Couldn't you see that? Did you seriously believe that I could be happy with the life I led? Here at the back of beyond? With my aging father who barely speaks? And then with your overbearing grandmother on top, who was always hanging around here and made it plain that she found me an insignificant old maid and was only here for the company of my dad, the love of her life? Did you think I was doing well? Without friends or a social life? Without any men taking an interest in me? Without any hope of a normal life with marriage, children and my own home? Did you think I didn't want all that? That I had no dreams of my own? Did you
really
, Leslie?'

Leslie closed her eyes for a second. ‘No,' she said quietly. She opened her eyes again and looked at Gwen.

‘No. I knew what you dreamt of. I knew what you longed for. But—'

‘But what?'

‘But you always showed a smiling and calm face. You were so fond of your father, and saw Fiona as a second mother. Somehow … you seemed so secure in that life. You were … different to other people. I should have …'