It Could Have Been Her(56)

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The circus is set up in a field about half a mile from the village center. As Jane pulls up on the lane opposite, she sees people moving around in waterproofs and under umbrellas. She turns off her engine and watches for a moment. Jane doesn’t like the circus. She was taken once as a child and found herself faintly terrified. She liked the horses, she remembered, the flare of their nostrils, their pretty feathered heads, but the people had unnerved her, the atmosphere, the noise, the theatrics, the makeup.

She takes a breath and leaves the car, pulling up the hood of her coat against the rain. There’s a woman with a young child standing in the shelter of a tree just outside the area where their trailers and caravans are located; she’s looking at her phone and the child is standing with his hand in hers and staring out into the middle distance.

“Excuse me?” Jane says, approaching her slowly.

The woman looks up from her phone. She doesn’t acknowledge Jane in any way, merely maintains neutral eye contact with her.

“Hi,” Jane babbles, “sorry, I don’t want to disturb you, but I’m looking for someone? And I think he might be part of your…” She struggles for the right word for a moment and then says, “I think he’s one of your clowns?”

The woman nods at her.

“His name is Jasper? Jasper Black? In his thirties? Do you know him?”

The woman gestures at the child to head back toward the caravans, then takes a step toward Jane. “Jasper,” she says. Her accent is hard to place. “Yes, we know Jasper.”

Jane feels her heart race with anticipation. “Oh,” she says. “Great.”

“Why do you ask?”

Jane taps into her gut feelings about this woman. Is she pro-Jasper or anti-Jasper? It’s impossible to read her body language or facial expressions.

“I just need to know if he’s here.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m…” Jane pauses, searches for a neutral response. “I’m a friend of his family.”

She narrows her eyes at Jane. “What family?”

“His… sister.”

The woman nods. “Well,” she says, “Jasper is not here.”

“Do you know when he’ll be back?”

She looks at Jane slightly pityingly. “I mean, Jasper is no longer here. With Martello’s. Jasper left, over a week ago.”

“Do you know where he went?”

She shakes her head. “No,” she says. “We do not know where he went. Jasper has”—she bursts her fingers into an approximation of a small explosion—“disappeared.”





chapter forty-five


STUART, SEVEN YEARS EARLIER

Daisy has given me permission to speak to her father, Harvey Moor. He has apparently retired and no longer works at the family business, but I am hoping that if I can’t talk to him directly, I can talk to his son Jason.

My call is answered within a couple of rings. “Hello, Jason Moor’s office.”

“Oh, hi, I was wondering if I might be able to have a word with Mr. Moor. If he’s there?”

“Yes, he’s right here. Who shall I say is calling?”

“Could you tell him it’s a friend of his father’s? My name is Stuart Tucker.”

I can hear the woman talking with her hand over the receiver of the phone in a hushed whisper, and then a man clearing his throat. “Jason Moor speaking.”

“Oh,” I say. “Hi, you don’t know me, but I know someone who is a close friend of your father’s and she’s desperate to talk to him. Her name is…”

The man sighs. “Don’t tell me. Jessamine Black.”

“Yes.” I swallow down my surprise. “Do you know her?”

“No, I don’t know her. But I know who she is.”

“Oh,” I say. “Right. And…?” I peter off.

“And she’s a total nut and my father has made it very clear that he wants nothing more to do with her, so please, can you tell Ms. Black that—”

I cut in over him. “I’m not calling on Jessamine’s behalf. I’m calling on her daughter’s behalf.”

There’s a brief pause, then Jason says, “Her daughter? What has she got to do with anything?”

“Well, I assume you’re aware that Jessamine’s daughter is…” I stall. What am I doing? Am I about to launch a hand grenade into the heart of this family that I know nothing about?

But before I can form the end of my sentence, Jason resumes talking. “I know who Jessamine claims her daughter is, but I also know that my father had a DNA test carried out two years ago and established categorically that Daisy is not his daughter.”

“She’s…?” I trail off again. “She’s not?”

“No. If you want, I could email you the results certificate from the lab. Jessamine has been in receipt of a copy and there is a copy lodged with our lawyers too. My father has been told that there is a 0.01 percent chance that he is the child’s father. That woman strung him along for years, took him for his money and took advantage of him in so many other ways. She kept him from his family with emotional blackmail, threatened to kill herself, threatened to report him to the police, threatened to destroy his family. And all the while it was a lie. The relief to my family since we found out that my father has no connection to that child has been overwhelming. So please, I’m sure Daisy is a lovely girl, I know my father was fond of her, but she is no longer a part of our lives. And neither is her insane mother.”