Mrs Riding slumps onto the seat opposite us and her shoulders droop in defeat. I notice the other customers staring in our direction, expectation on their faces. ‘My Trevor died never knowing …’ A sob escapes her lips.
Another woman appears at the table. Short and round with blonde hair. ‘Come on, Hannah, love,’ she says, putting an arm around Mrs Burke and almost lifting her from her chair. ‘It’s not Olivia’s fault. None of this is her fault.’
I watch as the woman leads Mrs Burke back to the table.
‘God,’ mumbles Olivia. ‘I feel awful. Can we go?’
‘Sure,’ I say, getting up. But as we leave, aware that our every movement is being scrutinized, I want to tell Olivia this is what it will be like for her, if she stays in this town. But then I remember: it’s always been like this for her. Ever since the accident. She’s used to it.
I drive Olivia back to the safety of the riding stables but run into the garage on the way to pick us up some croissants. Thankfully, there are no lessons booked in today so she doesn’t have to face anyone.
‘Do all these horses belong to you?’ I say, as I follow her into the yard after we’ve sat in the cold office and eaten a croissant, although Olivia picked at hers.
‘No, only Sabrina. The rest are livery. It means that we look after them for their owners, some on a reduced rate if they let us use their horse for the riding school,’ she explains, when she notices my blank expression. She sets about sorting out the horses as though on auto-pilot. I help her as best I can even though horses terrify me.
‘I’m not going to be able to keep this going by myself,’ she says, as she stuffs some hay into a large net.
‘Maybe cancel all lessons and close for a few days,’ I suggest. ‘Then you can have a think about it. You could get someone in to help you?’
She doesn’t say anything but presses her lips together so that they turn white. And then I realize what she’s not saying. There is nobody to help her.
I’m standing uselessly in the middle of the yard watching Olivia hauling horse dung and wet straw into a wheelbarrow, trying not to feel sick at the strong smell of ammonia, when I hear a car pull up. Dale strides through the five-bar gate, his shoes clipping the concrete as he makes his way over to us.
‘Thought I’d find you here when I saw you weren’t at the cabin. For a moment I thought you’d left without saying goodbye. Hi, Olivia,’ he adds, when he notices her next to me.
‘Is everything okay? Have you seen my mum?’
‘I haven’t but she’s been charged with manslaughter and perverting the course of justice. She’ll go before a magistrates’ court later. She’s pleading not guilty so it looks like her case will be referred to the Crown Court.’
‘When will I be able to see her?’
Dale’s eyes soften. ‘Soon. I’ll arrange it.’
‘And Wesley?’ I ask.
‘Well, he’s pinned everything on Jay, which is easy to do now that Jay is dead. But he’s agreed to help us with information concerning other members of this drugs ring for a more lenient sentence. Jay Knapton, it appears, was only one cog in a large wheel.’
Olivia doesn’t say anything. She just looks at her feet.
‘Who would have thought a small town like Stafferbury had such a massive drug problem?’ I say. ‘How long was Wesley involved?’
‘A long time by the sound of it. Different scams and ways of making money. He’s got a charge sheet as long as my arm.’ He looks like he wants to say more but doesn’t. He meets my eyes, then looks at the ground, a flush creeping up his neck. What is he not saying?
‘Did my mum have a part to play in that too?’ asks Olivia, raising her head and fixing her gaze on Dale.
‘I’m afraid so, yes. To what extent is still unclear.’
There’s more he’s not saying. I can sense it.
Olivia’s shoulders slump but she remains silent.
‘So what time are you leaving?’ Dale says to me.
I glance at my watch. I still need to get back to the cabin and gather the rest of my things. ‘Soon,’ I say regretfully. I feel bad about leaving Olivia.
‘Reporters are already beginning to descend.’ He folds his arms across his chest. ‘Just be careful what you tell them,’ he says to Olivia, ‘and if there are any problems, give me a call.’
I feel a swell of gratitude towards him.
‘I’ll see you back at the cabin,’ he says to me, then walks off towards his car.
I turn to Olivia. Her eyes have filled with tears. ‘It’s silly,’ she says, brushing them away.
‘Come here,’ I say, and I hug her close. ‘You’ll be okay,’ I say, into her hair. ‘You’re strong. You’ve endured a lot and you can get through this. And remember, if you ever fancy a change of scene you’re always welcome to come and stay with me in Manchester.’
As I drive away I see her in my rear-view mirror standing by the gate, looking small and lost, and my heart breaks.
53
Dale is waiting for me back at the cabin.
‘So come on, then, Mr Detective Sergeant CID, what is it you couldn’t say in front of Olivia?’ I say, as I step out of the car.
‘Nothing gets past you, does it?’ He laughs, falling in beside me.
‘Nope.’
I let us into the cabin. ‘It’s about Tamzin,’ he says, taking a seat at the kitchen table. He’s wearing black socks today. For some reason it makes me feel sad, like it’s symbolic. ‘Wesley was blackmailing her. He told her to steal the petty cash from her work or he’d tell me and her friends that she’d slept with him.’
‘What a fucking toad,’ I say, shocked. ‘Was he sleeping with her?’
‘He says so. Before he started going out with Olivia, but while she was with me.’ He shrugs. ‘He could be lying, of course. A way to goad me, no doubt. Why else would he admit that now?’
‘And what about Ralph? Do you know who killed him?’
‘Wesley says it was Jay. That Ralph didn’t want to be a dealer any more. They could no longer trust him, apparently. But, well, Wesley would say that, wouldn’t he? I wouldn’t be surprised if it was Wesley who’d killed him. But, of course, we can’t prove that.’
‘And the photos that were in Ralph’s caravan?’
‘Anastacia said Jay had taken them from John-Paul’s coat and hidden them in Ralph’s caravan because he didn’t know where else to put them. He was worried about burying them with John-Paul’s body because he didn’t want there to be a link between him and Olivia if his body was ever found. He could have burnt them, of course, which makes me think he kept them at Ralph’s to set him up if it ever came to it.’
‘Where did Jay bury John-Paul and … the girls?’
Dale grimaces. ‘He would have had people to call upon. His drug-dealing mates. The police will put pressure on them to reveal it. And Anastacia too. I’m sure she knows.’
I think of Madame Tovey’s words about John-Paul, Katie, Tamzin and Sally still being here, in Stafferbury, and a shiver runs down my spine. She was right. Maybe she isn’t a charlatan after all.