A Question of Guilt(20)

‘We’ll see about that. But thanks for being so understanding, and taking it so well, Sally.’

I snorted. Actually, I hadn’t taken it well at all. Given that I’d been agonizing over how I was going to end things myself I should have been grateful that he’d handed it to me on a plate. Instead, I was surprised how hurt I was, knowing he’d been sneaking around with someone else – falling in love with her – while I was coping with the devastating consequences of my accident.

I had no intention of letting him know that, though. His ego was quite big enough already.

‘Right,’ I said, sounding far calmer than I felt. ‘I suggest we go and have a drink and a spot of lunch somewhere and sort things out.’

‘All right, if you feel up to it . . .’

‘Might as well get it over with,’ I said. ‘Then we can both get on with our lives.’

Things were reasonably civil between us by the time Tim took me home to Rookery Farm, and we’d sorted out a lot of the practical issues. Tim would move out of the flat we shared, and would be gone by the time I was fit to return. I was still stubbornly refusing to accept any financial help from him with regard to the rent and so on, and I knew I’d have to sit down and do my sums as to whether I could afford to keep it on alone or whether I’d have to look for a flatmate – something I’d really prefer to avoid if at all possible.

Mum was in the kitchen, cleaning eggs ready for her stall at the farmers’ market on Saturday morning.

‘No Tim?’ she enquired as I went in.

‘No. Nor likely to be again.’

‘You’ve decided to call it a day.’ Though she was trying to sound non-committal, I could tell she was actually relieved.

‘Tim beat me to it,’ I said ruefully. ‘He’s involved with someone else.’

‘I knew it!’ Mum stripped off her Marigolds, leaning against the big stone sink. ‘I told you he was making excuses about why he wasn’t coming to see you. Well, good riddance, I say.’

‘I know . . . I know . . .’

‘So who is she? How long has it been going on?’

‘Mum – I really don’t want to talk about it any more right now. I’ll tell you all about it later.’

Though I could see Mum was bursting to hear all the details, she simply nodded.

‘When you’re ready, my love. But I will say this. You’re a lot better off without that one, so don’t go upsetting yourself. Now, why don’t you sit down and have a nice cup of tea?’

‘A cup of tea would be good. But . . .’ Not only did I not want to talk about what had happened with Tim, I didn’t want to think about it, either. And there was one sure fire way of taking my mind off the break-up.

‘Is Dad using his computer?’

‘No. He’s out seeing to one of his cows. He had to have the vet to her this morning.’

‘Oh dear!’

‘Yes, he’s a bit worried about her. So you can be sure he won’t be wanting to get on the computer for the next couple of hours, at least. Go on, you have it. I’ll bring your cup of tea in to you.’

‘Thanks, Mum. You’re a star.’

I logged on to Dad’s computer, pulled up the notes I’d made so far, and read through them. Mum brought me the promised cup of tea and a slice of her famous lemon drizzle cake and I nibbled on it as I added the information I’d gleaned from Rachel last night, including the name of the estate agency where Dawn had worked, and the fact that Lisa had married Paul Holder, the baker who had rescued the girls. I also made a note of the thought that had occurred to me that it might have been Lisa, not Dawn, who was the intended victim of the arson attack, and, armed now with her married name, I had another look for her on Facebook. This time I found her, but her page stated that ‘Lisa only shares some information publicly’, and her photograph wasn’t a photograph at all, but a white silhouette on a blue background. Could it be that she was a bit paranoid because of what had happened? I didn’t know, but it was important that I kept an open mind.

I sat back in Dad’s comfortable swivel chair, nursing my mug of tea, and trying to think about this logically. Top of my list of people to see had been Brian Jennings’ sister, Marion, but I was having second thoughts about that. It was unlikely that she would be able to tell me anything more than the basic facts, which I already knew – if she’d learned anything of any interest, then almost certainly she would have taken it to Brian’s solicitor and an appeal would be under way. Almost certainly that was not the case – it was only a few days since I’d heard her radio interview, and she’d not mentioned any new evidence. What was more, I rather thought that the moment she knew a newspaper reporter was taking an interest she’d go public with the fact, as she would see it as support for her cause. I really didn’t want that. Far better if I could talk to the people concerned first. I’d have to admit to an interest in the fire, of course, but if it was known that I was actually trying to find another suspect doors may well slam in my face. I wanted to ask questions as discreetly as possible, and if I became high profile it would be no help at all.