The Other Child (59 page)

‘Yes?'

‘I should have looked more closely,' said Leslie.

Neither of them said a word.

Dear God, thought Leslie, let me get through to her.

‘I'm sorry,' she said in the end, but Gwen just shrugged.

‘In your shoes that's what I'd say too.'

It went quiet again. Leslie could feel her racing heartbeat slow down a little, not that the tension and fear she felt had gone. She was able to think more clearly. It seemed to her as if Gwen were not happy with the situation. She had obviously shot Dave and her own father. She had felt no qualms in leaving both men to their fates, which almost certainly meant death.

But now she had been standing in the doorway for a good half hour, aiming her gun at her former friend, and she had not pulled the trigger. She seemed not to harbour the same nameless hatred for Leslie which she had for Chad, Dave and possibly Fiona. Nor had Leslie been part of her plans for the evening. She had just turned up unexpectedly. She should not have been here. Gwen might look like a warrior, but inside she was undecided about what to do next. Leslie sensed it was her chance, although she had no illusions: Gwen's uncertainty about what to do might make her feel she was in out of her depth, and then she might make a hurried decision.

Talk to her, that was the only thing that came to Leslie's mind.

‘Where did you get the gun?' she asked.

‘It's my dad's army revolver. He had it in the war. That might be a long time ago, but if you want to know if it still works, just look at Chad. And Dave in the bay.'

Leslie remembered a passage in her grandmother's notes. One time she had found Chad's army gun on a shelf in the study. She had tried, and failed, to use it to get him to talk about his experiences at the front. Probably the gun had not been moved. In all those years. For what reason would Chad have seen to put it somewhere safer?

‘You … practised shooting?'

‘I thought, who knows when I might need it,' Gwen said casually. ‘And somehow I was spot on. I really need it now.'

‘Gwen …'

‘Actually I wanted to shoot Fiona too. But since everyone was talking about the student's murder, I thought I could cause more confusion if I killed Fiona in a similar way to how the poor girl died. Smart of me, wasn't it? I could have died laughing when I heard that incompetent inspector pondering what the connection could be between Fiona and the young woman.'

‘You've changed, Gwen,' said Leslie. She thought how inappropriate that sentence sounded to her. As if Gwen had just got a new haircut or lost a few kilos. Instead she had mutated into a serial killer. Gwen – with her flowery cotton skirts, her fearful clinging to a withdrawn life on a lonely farm … She had gone and trained as a markswoman with her father's ancient revolver. She had procured ammunition and hatched her plans. She had found Fiona's letters to Chad and seen the chance to construct a motive for the murders of Fiona and Chad. She had obviously spread the letters intentionally. It was not her naivety, as everyone had assumed.

‘Did you send Dave to Semira?' she asked. ‘To divert suspicion onto him?'

‘Did he visit Newton? I almost thought he would. I didn't send him to her, no, but I noticed how curious he had become, and I thought: I bet he goes to Newton! When I visited him two days ago I gave him a second printout of the files. He read the whole thing that night. He was happy to have something to hide behind, so that he didn't have to go to bed with me. The timing of the plan had changed. Dave should have heard about the Somerville affair before Fiona died. But after the argument which you all saw, the opportunity was too good to miss. From the stairs I heard that she wanted to walk to the cab. I followed her and … well, the rest was easy. I had the revolver with me, and used it to force her to walk along the footpath. When we were a good distance from the road I grabbed a stone and smashed it against her head. Again and again. Until she no longer moved. A day later I threw the stone into the sea from a cliff.'

Leslie fought against a rising feeling of dizziness. What kind of person was she facing? And how could she have been so wrong for so many years? ‘So Jennifer lied when she said that you went out walking with her and her dogs?'

‘Good old Jennifer. She was worried I could be a suspect, so she covered for me. Her need to help people is sick. It's all she does. Well, it certainly was good for me. Later I told Colin that Jennifer had forced me to accept the story. You should have seen his face. His wife's strange behaviour certainly got him thinking.'

‘You … you've been very clever,' said Leslie tiredly, ‘in every way.'

‘I have, haven't I? I casually let drop to Colin that Dave also knew the old story. I made sure that later, when he was arrested, no one would believe that he had only heard the story
after
Fiona's death. I could feel how shocked Colin was, and that he thought I was a real gossip. I split my sides laughing inside. He was no better than me. After all, he told you everything.'

‘Dave denied knowing Semira Newton when I asked him. He denied ever having heard of her.'

‘Of course. He was the main suspect anyway. He knew that this could be used against him. He would have been an ideal candidate for Semira to get to carry out her revenge on Fiona Barnes. So he acted as if he had no idea. Not all that clever of him, because it was obvious it couldn't be hidden for ever.'

‘When … when did you have the idea to … kill Fiona and Chad?' asked Leslie.

Gwen seemed to take a moment to think carefully about it, but

Leslie had the impression that she already knew the answer and was only looking for a way to say it that would make it sound less banal than it might otherwise.

‘Always,' she finally answered.

‘Always? As a child? A teenager?
Always?'

‘Always. Yes, I think so. Always,' said Gwen, and it seemed she was being sincere. ‘I always dreamt of it. I always imagined it. And over the years the desire became stronger and stronger. And now I've done it.'

She smiled happily.

Leslie realised in horror: for years she's been a time bomb. And none of us noticed.

18

Jennifer dialled the number of Fiona Barnes's flat for the third time, but again the answering machine came on.

‘She's not there!' she said in despair.

Colin was sitting at the wheel and driving them, pushing the legal limit, back in the direction they had come from just hours ago. He asked again, ‘And you're sure you don't have Leslie Cramer's mobile number?'

‘Yes, I am. Unfortunately.' Jennifer knew that Colin was thinking to himself that she was mad. He did not understand what was happening.

‘Why are you so worried about Dave?' he had asked at home, confused. Jennifer had replied. ‘I'm afraid that Gwen will go crazy when he tells her the relationship is off. She won't accept it.'

He had not seen the problem. ‘Good lord, Dave Tanner is a big strong man. What's to fear? That Gwen will scratch his eyes out? He can defend himself!'

‘I've got a bad feeling. A really bad feeling, Colin. The fact that no one on the farm is answering the phone … seems odd to me. I wish, oh I wish I could just check everything's OK.'

Although Colin had felt sure his wife was in danger of becoming hysterical, he had suggested they call Leslie. ‘She could do us the favour of driving over to the farm to take care of Gwen – or Dave Tanner, if he really needs protecting.' Yet Leslie was obviously not home.

‘I'll drive to Staintondale,' Jennifer had said in the end, picking up the car key from the kitchen table. ‘If I don't, I won't have any peace until I do. Call me crazy, Colin, but I'm driving there now!'

‘It's almost an hour and a half's drive! We've just come. I do find that a little crazy, Jennifer!'

She had put on her coat and marched out the door. After refusing for years to drive a car, she now seemed resolved to drive off, just like that. Colin had followed her, cursing, and in front of the garage had taken the key from her hand.

‘OK. But let me drive. You haven't driven in years. For God's sake, Jennifer, what's up?'

She had not replied. But he had seen in the light of the street lamps that she was feeling really bad. She was very worried, and Colin asked himself – not for the first time – how many secrets his wife might be hiding from him.

‘If you are so worried about Tanner,' he said, ‘perhaps you should call the police. Rather than racing through the night and depriving us of our sleep!'

‘I didn't say you should come!'

‘In the state you're in, I couldn't let you drive on your own. Jennifer, what are you afraid of?'

She did not look at him, but pressed the side of her face against the glass. ‘I don't know exactly, Colin. That's the truth of it. I just know that Gwen could snap if Dave breaks up with her.'

‘What exactly do you mean by “snap”?'

She did not reply.

Colin pressed her. ‘Jennifer! What do you mean by “snap”?'

She seemed to be struggling with herself. ‘She's wound up so tight,' she said in the end. ‘She's eaten up with hate and despair. I don't know if she'll be able to brush off this failure.'

‘Hate? Gwen?'

Now she turned to him. He looked over at her briefly, before he concentrated on the dark road again. Her eyes were wide open and full of fear.

‘I can't call the police,' she said. ‘Because then I'd draw their attention to Gwen, and that might put her in a situation she can't get out of. But I know that Gwen has hated her life for years. She sees herself as someone who has had only misfortune. She's really angry about it. She never told me directly, but I can feel it. I just know, Colin.'

‘Are you aware of what you're saying?'

‘Yes. But that doesn't mean she killed Fiona.'

‘But you don't exclude the possibility?'

Jennifer again said nothing.

Colin took a hand from the wheel and rubbed his forehead. His skin felt cold and damp. ‘The alibi,' he said. ‘The stupid fake alibi. You didn't want to protect yourself, but
her
. You had an inkling, and instead of telling the police you made sure you got Gwen out of danger as quickly as possible. That's crazy, Jennifer. That's really crazy.'

‘She shouldn't suffer any more.'

‘But she might have killed someone!'

‘But we don't know!'

‘And it's the police's job to find out. It was your duty to tell them everything you know. All hell will break loose now. Do you realise?'

Instead of answering, she asked, ‘Can you drive faster?'

‘We have to call the police now, Jennifer.'

‘No.'

With a loud curse Colin put his foot on the accelerator pedal. Breaking the speed limit hardly mattered now.

19

‘Your father will die if no one helps him soon,' said Leslie. She could barely stand. She did not know how much time had passed. She felt that Gwen did not know how to get out of the situation she had put herself in. The minutes were ticking away and Chad's chances of surviving were trickling away. Dave Tanner's too. And there was nothing she could do. She had to stand opposite this madwoman and hope she did not panic and pull the trigger.

Gwen shrugged. ‘Let him. That's the point. Fiona dead, Chad dead. He controlled my life, and she helped him do it. And what's more, the two of them have my mum on their consciences. Because Fiona refused to let go of my dad, and because he was unable to show Fiona her place, my mother got ill. Or perhaps you think she enjoyed having your gran here on the farm day after day? Your gran even cooked for my dad, took care of him when he was sick, shared his worries. Sometimes the two of them acted as if neither my mum nor I existed. We just weren't there. That's how Mum got cancer. And I …' She stopped there.

‘You became mentally ill,' said Leslie. She weighed her every word with the utmost care. ‘And I can understand. I'm so, so sorry not to have paid attention, not to have seen how things were. You had a horrible childhood and youth, Gwen. But why didn't you leave, later? When you were eighteen? Why did you stay?'

‘I wanted to leave. You have no idea all the things I tried! You thought I was reading those stupid romance novels and living in dreamland. Instead I was …'

‘Yes?'

‘I think I answered over a hundred personal ads. Met I don't know how many men. Over the internet too, in the last few years. I know all the matchmaking sites. I know all the systems. I've spent hours each day at the computer. And many evenings on dates with men.'

Leslie would never have guessed it, but by now little could surprise her. ‘You didn't meet the right man,' she suggested lamely.

Gwen laughed shrilly. ‘You're too much, Leslie! You've always got a wonderful way of describing the shittiest things!
You didn't meet the right man
… Nice way to put it! Thanks for your tact! No, I didn't meet the right man. The man who would have wanted someone like me. The horrific truth is there was never a second date. They saw me, they tortured themselves through an evening with me, maybe they paid for the meal, which they had wasted on me, and then they made off. Relieved it was over. And they never wrote again. Didn't even reply to my mails. Let alone try to see me again.'

‘I'm really sorry.'

‘Yes, it's sad, isn't it? Poor, unfortunate Gwen! But the evenings when they struggled to keep a conversation going with me were good days. Do you know what often happened? Imagine you're in a restaurant. You're nervous. You're waiting for the man who might -
might! -
be Mr Right. You've made an effort to look good. You know that you aren't pretty and that you're not good at doing yourself up, but you've done your best. You're trembling with anticipation. And then the door opens. The guy coming in doesn't look bad. Nor unfriendly. You know it's him. The man you've been chatting to on the internet for weeks. You slowly get a feel for it, you know? You don't need any sign, a red rose or a particular paper under your arm, anything like that. You just see. And he does too. His gaze wanders round the room and fixes on you. He recognises it's you, just as you recognise it's him. And you see he's startled. Because you aren't at all what he had hoped for. In a flash he feels queasy at the thought of having to spend the evening with you and that he'll have to fork out for it, too. And you immediately know he won't have the decency to stick around for the evening and then make a graceful exit later.'