The Homecoming Read online

  ‘I’ve told several people,’ she told him. ‘I’m sure it’s only some crank. But I don’t want my parents worried by what’s certain to be a juvenile attempt at a joke. Kids probably,’ she said. ‘Neville Nolan is quite capable of such a thing.’

  ‘I wish you hadn’t told anyone, apart from me of course,’ Matthew said. ‘I agree with Glyn, you shouldn’t take chances.’

  ‘You’ll come with me to the police?’

  ‘Let’s go now and get it over with.’

  Richards wasn’t there when they called at the station and she refused to discuss it with anyone else. As he had explained, it was simpler if she didn’t have to repeat herself to several people.

  ‘I’ll walk you home,’ Matthew said.

  ‘No need. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ She touched her lips gently against his cheek, but he pulled her round until they were face to face and said softly, ‘Oh Lydia, love. I missed you. I’ve been so afraid you’d have nothing more to do with me after all that’s happened.’ He kissed her then, a slow, loving kiss. Staring into his deep-set eyes with another kiss hovering, Lydia forgot the fears and worries of the past days and lost herself in the thrill of a burgeoning love.

  The phone was ringing insistently when she opened the door and she ran up the stairs to the living room two at a time exhilarated with the excitement of Matthew’s kisses and the promise they offered of future happiness.

  ‘That was foolish, Lydia,’ the voice said solemnly. ‘This is a last warning. Keep your pretty mouth shut!’

  The words startled her out of her mood and brought her to earth with a sickening jolt. Besides the repeat of the threat was the horrifying realisation that the words and even the tone, were exactly what Glyn had said to her only a few hours previously. ‘That was foolish, Lydia.’

  Was it no more than a coincidence that both the anonymous caller and Glyn should utter the identical phrase?

  Annie called down and asked for a cup of tea and Lydia stood there, distantly aware of the whining voice but not hearing it. This couldn’t be happening. She had imagined it all. She started then, as there was a knock at the door.

  She walked slowly down the stairs to the kitchen, her back sliding against the wall as if it offered protection. ‘Who is it?’ she called.

  ‘It’s me, Matthew. I was worried so I came to see if you got home safely. Is everything all right, love?’

  Lydia opened the door and practically threw herself on him with relief.

  ‘Matthew, there’s been another call, a warning like the first.’ She didn’t tell him that the voice had repeated Glyn’s words. She must have been mistaken about that.

  ‘Don’t go to the police,’ Matthew pleaded. ‘I think this person might be telling the truth and he does wish you harm. Forget it, say no more about the night you found Rosie, if you remember anything further don’t tell anyone, please, Lydia, promise me. There’s more than my sister’s death involved here and I don’t think we should try finding out what it is.’

  ‘I have to tell them, now I’ve received a second one,’ she whispered. ‘I’m afraid to involve them, but more afraid not to.’

  ‘At least leave it for today,’ Matthew urged.

  ‘But Superintendent Richards. He’s sure to call and ask what I wanted.’

  ‘Make something up, but please don’t say anything about this second call. I don’t want to alarm you, but I think you should be careful.’

  ‘All right, but I don’t feel very easy about going to Auntie Stella’s as I planned. I think I’ll stay in.’

  ‘Good! I’ll be happier knowing you’re safely inside. I’ll meet you tomorrow morning and walk you to the bus, shall I?’

  As soon as her parents were settled for the evening, Lydia’s confidence returned. How foolish to imagine anyone would wish her harm! It was definitely some crank. Didn’t cases like these always unearth a few? She would face her fear and walk to Auntie Stella’s house.

  Yet the fear did not completely dissolve and she had images of being followed, down the steps to the foreshore, along the dark streets, every doorway a threat.

  She was wearing a dark cloak and feeling a bit stupid at her precautions. Her route took her up the hill away from the seafront before turning and making her way to the corner house that would soon be her corner shop.

  Before she reached her aunt’s gate a man called and she recognised the burly silhouette of Superintendent Richards against the lamp post opposite.

  ‘I was hoping we’d meet,’ he said. ‘I understand you called at the station and asked for me earlier. Have you remembered anything more about the time you found the body?’

  ‘No, I, er… I was just wondering if you’d found out how she died or whether there was any further news. I’m worried about Dad and Mr Howe.’

  ‘Of course you are.’ He appeared to accept her freshly invented story. ‘Come into the station, as we’re so near and we can talk about it.’ He led her into a small room where a sketch of the castle kitchen had been drawn. Little squiggles were drawn in groups all over the area and Lydia asked what they were.

  ‘They mark the places where someone had been digging,’ he said. ‘Remember it was here,’ he pointed to a large area of squiggles, ‘that the body was found.’

  Lydia shook her head. ‘The turf had only been removed in two places, near the body and further over near the opposite wall,’ she insisted, pointing to the relevant places.

  ‘Then you do know more than you’ve told us,’ the policeman said. His face as he stared at her was cold and threatening. ‘Not trying to cover for your father, are you?’

  ‘But, I didn’t try to keep that from you, I didn’t know, until I saw the plan,’ she protested.

  ‘All right, I believe you,’ he smiled ‘I know what a delicate instrument the memory can be. But if you remember anything else, I can’t stress too heavily the importance of telling me.’ He touched the plan and explained. ‘Some of these lighter squiggles are areas where the ground had been disturbed previously but quite recently. We think our man had been going regularly to search for something and he was not certain about the hiding place.’

  ‘He was there, watching us, standing in the shadows while I stood looking down on that – that poor woman, wasn’t he?’

  ‘Maybe, or perhaps he went back, after you left, and dug further to find what he was looking for, and to take away his tools. They were borrowed from a shed in one of the allotments, by the way,’ he added. ‘From the way he dug, frantically, without the method he had previously used, he was searching for something – but not Rosie Hiatt. The way he drew attention to himself by panic makes it clear that was not what he expected to see when he pulled up that piece of turf.’

  ‘What was he looking for?’

  ‘Evidence of those robberies? Or a weapon perhaps.’

  ‘D’you think he’s dangerous, this mystery man?’

  ‘He could be, if he’s afraid of a prison sentence, and why else would he try and recover those things? Dangerous? I think it’s possible. Why? What do you have to fear?’ He looked at her and the expression on his face made her believe he could see into her mind and know she was not being completely truthful with him.

  She told him then about the phone calls and he took notes and warned her to be extra careful. ‘But don’t let this spoil your sleep, young lady. We’ll be watching you. You can rely on that. Just go about your business as usual, don’t let it worry you.’ In lighter tones he asked, ‘Is it true you’re going to open a shop?’

  ‘That’s right, in my auntie’s house, selling knitwear and wool.’

  ‘Put me down for a pair of hand-knitted woollen socks will you? I haven’t had a pair since my mother died,’ he smiled. ‘My wife doesn’t know how. Now,’ he stood up, dismissing her, ‘off we go, I’ll walk you home, shall I?’

  ‘No, I think I’ll go and see my aunt.’

  Before he left her, at Stella’s gate, he said, ‘Don’t forget, if anything is worrying you, ring me. Yo
u have my number safe?’ She nodded and he added, ‘If you don’t want to phone, come and ask for me. You don’t have to speak to anyone else, I know how confusing it can be explaining to half a dozen different people. Just keep me informed and I’ll do the rest. Right? I don’t want you to feel you’re on your own in this.’

  He walked her along the quiet street near the gate of the castle grounds and she thanked him and knocked on her aunt’s door, deterrninedly refusing to even glance up at the ruined castle on the sky line.

  She didn’t mention the phone calls to Stella, instead she forced her mind to concentrate on the new business. The order for their first stock of wool was due the following day and already knitting needles and patterns adorned the new shelves and walls ofthe front room. A second door, which had served the hairdressing salon, had been unblocked and on it hung the open/closed notice. Smilingly, Stella turned it to open then flicked it back again. ‘Won’t be long now, will it?’ she said.

  As she did so there was a knock at the door and a face stared in at them. Stella squealed and Lydia gasped. It was a few seconds before they recognised Glyn.

  ‘We’re not even open yet!’ Stella said, arms akimbo. ‘And anyway, it’s after hours!’

  ‘I saw you through the window and wondered if Lydia wanted company back home,’ he said when they opened the door to him.

  ‘I’m all right, I don’t need a nursemaid,’ Lydia replied but she didn’t refuse. The streets were dark and with only a few people about, footsteps behind her could be very frightening.

  ‘Did you go to the police?’ he asked as they set off an hour later down the hill towards the seafront.

  ‘I did and they weren’t particularly worried,’ she told him flippantly. ‘It’s a crank, sure to be. That’s what that man Richards thinks. Cases like this always attract them.’

  ‘But they will keep an eye on you?’

  ‘Of course they will but they don’t really think it’s necessary.’

  ‘I’m still driving for Tomos and I’ll be watching too,’ Glyn replied. She tried to pretend she didn’t value his concern, but she was reassured and pleased to know he would be watching out for her. With Glyn and Detective Superintendent Richards looking out for her, surely nothing could harm her?

  * * *

  In an attempt to revive interest in the death of Rosie Hiatt, the newspapers did an update on the investigation. There was still no clear evidence about how she died, and the mystery of the burial remained. Lydia saw her father studying the review of the case and she knew he was distressed.

  ‘It will soon be over, Dad,’ she comforted. ‘Cheer up. No one has accused you of murder, have they? So don’t look so tragic,’ she teased.

  ‘You don’t have to wield the weapon to be guilty, mind,’ he said sadly.

  Lydia went to see to Gimlet and asked him to talk her father out of his depressed mood. Gimlet looked thoughtful and promised to try.

  On the allotments a few days later, Gimlet stood up from cleaning the dead plants from his bean sticks and saw Billy staring towards the top of the plots, near the trees that hid much of the castle from their view.

  ‘Thinking about Rosie, are you?’ he asked softly.

  ‘I can’t get her out of my mind,’ Billy replied sadly. ‘We all knew she was a tart, living off what men paid her but she didn’t deserve to be killed and buried up there with no one to mourn her.’ He turned to look at Gimlet, distress distorting his features. ‘We used her and sneered at her as if we were better than she. I’m at least partly responsible, you know that, don’t you?’

  ‘I know that, Billy. Best you don’t think too deeply over it. You didn’t kill her and that’s what you must remember.’

  ‘I did kill her – oh, I didn’t murder her, but she came to me that night and I turned her away, refused to help. She wasn’t seen again. If I’d had even a little sympathy, damn it all, man, I wouldn’t turn a wounded cat away, yet I turned my back on her, an eighteen year old child. I might as well have killed her. I drove her to whoever did.’

  ‘Suicide it was,’ Gimlet said quietly.

  ‘That would be worse. If I walked away when she was so desperate, what’s that if it isn’t killing her? Besides, it couldn’t have been suicide. She was buried and she couldn’t have buried herself.’

  ‘I buried her, Billy.’

  ‘You what?’ Billy turned and stared at Gimlet as if he were a stranger.

  ‘When I met you that night, after you’d spoken to her, I was worried. It was in The Pirate. Remember?’

  ‘I remember. I was scared she would tell Annie we’d been seeing each other. She just told me she was going to have a baby and it was mine.’

  ‘You said she staggered and fell when you shook her and told her you wouldn’t be responsible for her child.’

  ‘I was so angry. Annie was ill and Lydia only a child. I couldn’t let her ruin their lives. You understand, don’t you?’

  ‘I was worried,’ Gimlet repeated, ‘so I went to find her.’

  ‘Unhurt she was. Shouting at me as I walked away.’

  ‘She was lying there, on the spot you’ve been staring at for so long and look at every time we come here. That was where you’d left her, wasn’t it?’ Billy nodded, still staring at his friend. ‘There was blood on her face,’ Gimlet went on, ‘and I could see at once that she was dead. It was only after I’d started to run away, and returned for a second look, that I realised her wrists had been cut.’

  ‘I didn’t hurt her, I swear to you,’ Billy said urgently. ‘If I’d known she was so desperate I’d have done something, I’d have thought of some way to help her.’

  ‘It wasn’t shaking her and causing her to fall that killed her Billy, that was why I did what I did. I carried her up through the trees to the castle, climbed in the way we kids had always got inside, and left her there. I put my coat over her, wrapped her up warm just in case. Later, almost dawn it was, I went back and buried her. I – I knew she was dead, that first time I looked at her. It was obvious her life was ended but I was afraid, what if I was wrong? So I left her to make sure, then I dug a grave and left her there.’

  ‘You did that for me?’

  ‘Pals we are, and both of us involved with the poor girl. You’d have done the same if I’d been the one in trouble.’

  ‘But never to say a word, all these years.’

  ‘I didn’t feel any guilt for what I did. I knew you hadn’t killed her and there wasn’t any point in you suffering remorse, probably having to admit to Annie what had been going on, and ruining little Lydia’s childhood. It seemed for the best.’

  ‘What can I say?’

  ‘Buy me a pint, boy and forget this conversation ever took place.’

  ‘The police seem convinced she was involved in some robberies and the death was due to a falling out.’

  ‘That’s what they’re saying and best if we accept it.’

  Both men were subdued that evening as they sat at their usual table in The Pirate. Although Gimlet pleaded with Billy not to discuss it any more in case a hint of what happened escaped and ruined his years of silence, Billy’s mind wouldn’t leave it alone.

  ‘That man who was digging up there, what could he have been after?’

  ‘The police found a jacket that had been wrapped around a gun. Someone trying to find it before the workmen found it perhaps? It was used in a robbery, or at least, that what the papers are saying. There were stolen goods up there too, the thief might have come back to find that. Medals as well as jewellery, some belonging to the Franks who young Molly lives with. Funny to think of things like that going on in our own little village, isn’t it?’

  ‘The police have dug up all the kichen area and across the courtyard. They’ve searched through the dungeons too, opening up a room that’s been half buried for centuries, but they found nothing.’

  ‘You don’t think it could have been Matthew Hiatt, do you? That somehow, after all this time he’d learnt the truth about his sister’s
disappearance and came back here to look for her?’

  ‘It is a bit of a coincidence, him turning up here at this time. But, coincidences do happen.’

  ‘They do, and sometimes, I even believe them,’ Billy replied cynically.

  * * *

  Annie knew there was something worrying Billy and in her usual unhappy way she presumed his subdued mood was something that would cast a shadow on her own wellbeing. Perhaps he was fed up with caring for her, although he was his usual attentive self, coming to see her as soon as he returned from work and climbing the stairs without complaint if she called down for something. He still smiled at her but the smile was hollow and she dreaded him telling her something serious.

  He wasn’t ill, she was reasonably certain of that. He slept easily and his appetite wasn’t impaired by whatever was taking the glow from his blue eyes. She waited every time she saw him for him to tell her the problem, but when nothing was said, she dared not ask. If it was something that would affect her badly she would rather not know until the telling was unavoidable.

  She reached out for one of the sweets Stella brought her. Boiled sweets she usually had but today Stella had given her some chocolate brazils, a real treat, and she stopped with the chocolate touching her lips and frowned. Was this treat to relax her, make her happy and better able to stand bad news? She chewed slowly, frowning slightly as she pondered over the week’s happenings to try and fathom what the problem could be.

  She was so deeply in thought that at first the sound didn’t penetrate her mind. First the slightest of creaks as the back door opened, then the kitchen door knob turning. It was the slight draught that finally made her stop chewing and listen.

  Automatically she glanced at the clock beside her bed. Too early for Billy, and Stella was at the shops and wouldn’t be back for another half an hour. It must be Lydia. Unwell perhaps? Was that what was creating the atmosphere of gloom? Was Lydia unwell and they not wanting to tell her and cause her to worry?