Читать книгу Cruel Acts - Jane Casey - Страница 18

On a fine day, St Leonards-on-Sea would have been a nice place to visit. The shingle beach was long and empty, the rain sweeping across it like a curtain as the tide came in. The waves were noisier than the cars that swished along the promenade that ran between the beach and the tall Regency terraces that defined the area. They had been built for a wealthy town that had never quite materialised, though the houses had been grand enough, with elegant columns and graceful porticoes. Most of them were now divided into flats, including the Howards’ home. They occupied the bottom two floors of a white-painted house that looked out to sea.

‘It’s an upside-down house. We use the downstairs rooms as bedrooms and upstairs is our sitting room.’ Mrs Howard hauled herself up the stairs ahead of us, wheezing. ‘It’s the views, you see. I like to look out to sea. Always interesting. Always inspiring.’

The sitting room ran across the front of the house, with three tall windows framing the view. The walls were lined with landscape paintings that had an abstract quality: saffron yellow sand, teal-coloured sea, squared-off purple hills, white cliffs, scarlet sunsets. An easel stood in front of one window with a half-finished painting leaning on it. Mrs Howard cast it a longing look before she sat down.

‘Thank you for taking the time to talk to us,’ I said.

‘No, no. It’s a pleasure. Anyone who can help us is welcome.’ She was a round woman with a sweet face that was made for smiling. There was something dead in her eyes, though, a dullness that I’d seen many times before. ‘My husband isn’t here. He didn’t want to be.’

‘I can understand it must be upsetting to talk about Willa.’ It was that sympathy for the bereaved that always redeemed Derwent in my eyes: he really meant it.

Mrs Howard raised her hands and let them fall into her lap, a helpless gesture. ‘It’s upsetting whether we talk about her or not.’

‘Do you understand what’s happened with the appeal and why it was successful?’ I asked. ‘It doesn’t mean that the courts are convinced Mr Stone is innocent. Nor does our investigation.’

‘No, I understand that. DCI Whitlock rang me himself to explain it to me. Such a nice man.’

‘Yes, he is.’

‘He worked so hard on the investigation. They all did.’

‘We may not be able to do much more than they did, but we’re going to do our best,’ I promised. ‘We’re determined to put together the strongest case we can for the retrial.’

‘You can’t find evidence that isn’t there.’ Mrs Howard sounded wistful, not angry. ‘He did such a clever job.’

I thought for a moment that she was still talking about DCI Whitlock, until she went on. ‘I truly think he’s an evil person, you know. Evil. That’s the only word. The way he took those women. The way he kept them. That awful metal box where he hid them.’ She gave a tiny sigh. ‘We knew from the moment she disappeared that she was gone. At least, I did. I never had any hope that we’d see her again.’

‘Why was that?’

‘She would never have gone off without contacting me. She wasn’t that sort of person. We were very close. She told me everything – all about Jeremy, her boyfriend. She told me about everyone in her life. We spoke every day, often more than once. I would have known if she needed me. I would have sensed it. All I could feel was an absence.’

I was trying to imagine a situation where I would willingly tell my mother even half of the things that went on in my life. Derwent took over.

‘I know you’ll have answered these questions before, but was Willa worried about anything? Was anyone bothering her?’

‘She was very angry with Jeremy.’ Mrs Howard shook her head. ‘She spent far too long with him. He was never going to grow up. We could see that, even if she couldn’t. He was a weak person. Immature.’

‘Was there anyone else of significance in Willa’s life?’

‘No. No one. She couldn’t seem to get over Jeremy. I mean, the waste of it. She was a gorgeous girl – talented, creative, kind … she deserved so much more. She would have been a wonderful mother. And I know Jeremy wasn’t directly responsible for her death but it was his idea to meet in that horrible pub. Have you been in it?’

We nodded.

‘I wanted to be in the last place where Willa was. Stupid, really, to think she might be hanging around there. She was happiest here, by the sea, so if her spirit is anywhere, it’s here.’ Mrs Howard sniffed, her eyes brimming. ‘It smelled horrible. Stale beer. Cheap air freshener. I sat on the stool where she’d sat, looking at the last things she saw. Maybe someone was watching her while she was in the pub. She had such glorious hair – like a cloak. I always thought she was pure pre-Raphaelite.’