Forgive Me (41 page)

‘Because, Sophie, someone set fire to
your sister Eva’s house in London that night. She could’ve died in the
fire.’

Sophie’s eyes widened in shock.
‘Oh my God!’ she exclaimed. ‘Is she OK?’

‘She is now, but she has been very
poorly,’ Markham said.

All at once a flash of understanding passed
over Sophie’s face. ‘You think my dad did it! You do, don’t you?
That’s why the police were searching our house. Did she say he did it? The cow!
She just wants to get some revenge because he chucked her out of our house.’

‘I don’t believe Eva has
suggested your father was responsible,’ Markham said. ‘In cases like this we
question everyone involved with the victim.’

Markham left Sophie with Holderness and went
to report what the girl had said to DI Salway.

His face dropped when she told him.
‘Bugger. The chances are she was so drunk or stoned that she just assumed he was
there and never thought about his car. And she’ll stick to her story no matter
what, for fear of him finding out how late she was.’

‘She doesn’t appear to care much
about her sister either. That girl needs to wake up and see where she’s heading.
We can check on the boyfriend – Jake. But you can bet he cleared off from The Beeches so
fast he wouldn’t have noticed if there was a double-decker bus parked in the
drive.’

‘It wouldn’t hurt to do a little
background check on Patterson, though,’ Salway said. ‘I’ve got a hunch
he isn’t quite what he seems.’

Eva stood at the bottom of the stairs in
her house in Pottery Lane, her hand over her mouth in shock at the black walls and
charred remains of her furniture and belongings. Everything was ruined; the red sofa was
only recognizable because some springs were sticking out of the blackened heap. All that
remained of her bookshelves, which she had put up so proudly, were the metal brackets on
the wall, the books a soggy mound of ash beneath. The kitchen units were still in place
but were burned and distorted, doors hanging open, the contents just so much rubble.

Then there was the smell, as if a hundred
people had smoked twenty cigarettes each and then sprayed the room with a toxic mixture
of mould, rotting vegetation and some kind of pungent chemical. The floor was still wet
from the firemen’s hoses, the French doors had buckled, and the glass was broken.
There was absolutely nothing left to show that this had once been a bright and pretty
room.

Even the garden was a mess, because her tubs
of flowers had been knocked over and charred timber and scorched carpet thrown out on
top of them. She had told herself over and over again since the fire that everything she
had lost could be replaced – and that much was true. But what she couldn’t get
over was the fact that someone had deliberately set the fire, intending her to die in
it.

She was sure that it
was
Andrew,
and she sensed the police were convinced too. But without some evidence to prove it,
they had no choice but to release him without charge.

It was a horrible feeling, knowing that he was
walking around free, probably gloating that he’d been clever enough to cover his
tracks. To add to her anxiety, so far the police hadn’t been able to confirm or
disprove that she was the baby taken in Carlisle. It seemed they hadn’t as yet
been able to find Sue Carling, or any record of where Flora gave birth to Eva.

But then, as Phil kept pointing out, it was
only ten days since Eva had left hospital. And there would be an awful lot of legwork
involved in checking London hospitals and doctors’ practices, as nothing was on
computers twenty-one years ago. As for Sue Carling, it was hardly surprising she’d
left Carlisle – no woman would want to stay in a town where people thought she was a
baby killer.

Eva wished now she’d never found her
mother’s diaries, because Dena’s prediction about waking the sleeping
serpent did appear to have come true. She’d not only put herself in grave danger,
but she’d alienated herself from Sophie and Ben too.

She had rung Ben a few days after she got
out of hospital, but Andrew had got to him first.

Ben’s voice grew harsh and cold as
soon as she spoke. ‘If you’ve rung to try to convince me Dad started that
fire, don’t bother. I can’t believe you’d try to destroy him, Sophie
and me. You’re deranged, Eva. What possible motive would he have to kill
you?’

‘He didn’t like the questions I
asked when I stopped by The Beeches on my way home from Scotland,’ she said.
‘Did he tell you about that?’

‘He told me you were talking a load of
rubbish, slandering Mum. And you had some lout with you who was backing you up,’
he said contemptuously. ‘Honestly, Eva, you’d better get a grip.
You’re heading the same way as Mum – totally unhinged. Sophie and I don’t
want anything more to do with you.’

‘And you, Ben, are heading the same way
as your father – cruel and spiteful,’ she retorted before banging the phone down
and bursting into tears.

Phil had tried to comfort her, saying that
the truth would come out eventually, and she must just be patient. But shaken up by her
experience in the fire, with everything she owned gone, and still coughing a great deal
at night, she found it hard not to sink into self-pity.

There had been brief moments of comfort: she
had received flowers and chocolates from Olive and all the staff at Oakley and Smithson;
Gregor and Grace had sent a gift box of Scottish biscuits, toffee and cake with a card
saying she was welcome to come and stay with them to recuperate. But Patrick was still
away, and she wished so much that she could speak to him.

It was Phil’s idea to come here today,
on Saturday morning, because he felt seeing the damage for herself might help her to
move on.

‘Your car seems fine. But I’ll
get one of my mates to check it over and clean it up on Monday night,’ Phil
said.

Eva could only nod; at the moment she felt
she would never laugh again, let alone drive. She wanted it sold. It was just another
unwanted memory of Flora and Andrew.

‘Why don’t we go upstairs and
see what we can salvage,’ he said, putting his arm around her shoulders. ‘Or
would you rather leave me to do it at another time?’

‘No, I’ll do it now. You were
right, I needed to see it,’ she said, forcing a smile.

The staircase was still intact. The first
two steps were badly burned, the carpet almost welded into a solid mass, but they had
been told by the Fire Department that they were safe to use.

Phil opened the door to the big bedroom
first. Although
it was gloomy, because the windows had been boarded
over, the damage here was only from smoke. Eva touched the duvet tentatively, and her
fingers came away black. She tried not to think about how she had felt the last time she
was in here.

‘There’s no point in trying to
save things like that,’ Phil said. ‘It would take dozens of washes to get it
clean. But your shoes and things in the drawers might be OK.’

He had brought a large suitcase and some bin
bags with him. He turned on a big torch, placing it on the dressing table so she could
see better.

‘Everything smells horrible,’
Eva said. She didn’t really want to try to salvage anything, but common sense said
she must, and as the clothes in the drawers didn’t look too bad she scooped them
out and put them into a bin bag. A jewellery box that looked OK went into the suitcase,
followed by shoes and clothes from the wardrobe.

As she opened the drawer of the bedside
cabinet, her spirits were suddenly lifted to find the book of sketches of herself as a
baby. ‘I’d forgotten I’d put this in here,’ she exclaimed in
delight. As it had been inside a large envelope, it wasn’t even sooty. ‘I
just wish I’d brought Mum’s diaries up here too.’

‘This picture doesn’t look too
bad either,’ Phil said, taking down from the wall the Cornish beach scene painted
by Flora. ‘It will need cleaning by an expert, and the frame looks grotty, but we
can always get a new one.’

It was the only one of Flora’s
paintings that Eva had hung upstairs, and that was purely because it looked right
against the turquoise wall. All the others, some on the living-room walls and some still
stacked in a box until she decided where to put them, were now just ash. She was
thrilled that the beach one was relatively undamaged. If she’d been given a
choice of saving just one of Flora’s pictures, she would have
picked that one.

‘The dressing table will be fine with
a good clean,’ she said. ‘I think the bedstead will be too. But where can we
store them?’

‘I can find room for them in the
shed,’ Phil said. ‘But let’s leave them for now. I’ll get one of
my mates to help me get them out.’

They moved on then to the small bedroom and
found that it was just as badly smoke-damaged, but the bedside lamp and a few other
items were worth saving.

‘That’s everything,’ Eva
said, after rescuing a few toiletries from the bathroom and the ash-covered towels from
the airing cupboard. ‘I’d like to get the table and chairs from the garden,
though, and any tubs that aren’t broken.’

Once Phil’s van was loaded he locked
the padlock on the front door and they drove away.

‘The smell has come with us,’
Eva said as they drove down Holland Park Avenue.

‘It won’t stay,’ Phil
assured her. ‘We’ll put everything out in the garden, clean up the table and
chairs, and wash the clothes. The fresh air and sunshine will make everything as good as
new. Or do you mean you are afraid the bad vibes from the house have come
too?’

Eva
was
afraid of that, and once
again she was astounded at how perceptive Phil could be. He’d been wonderful since
she’d come out of hospital. He’d comforted her when she had nightmares, and
sat her up and fetched her a drink when she had coughing fits. She had been very down,
crying at nothing, yet he’d cooked her meals and listened patiently when she
agonized about Andrew, Ben and Sophie. He hadn’t snapped at her once, or showed
any irritation at her state of mind. But she couldn’t expect him to
be so tolerant for much longer, and she knew she must pull herself
together.

‘No, I don’t believe bad vibes
can travel with possessions,’ she said. ‘You did the right thing taking me
there, it had to be faced. I can move on now.’

Around five o’clock that afternoon,
as Eva was emptying the washing machine in the kitchen, there was a ring at the
doorbell.

‘I’ll get it,’ she called
out, because Phil was in the garden hosing down the table and chairs.

She opened the door, fully expecting it to
be one of Phil’s friends, only to find it was Patrick, with a huge bouquet of
flowers.

‘Patrick! What a lovely
surprise,’ she exclaimed.

‘I’m sorry to take so long in
coming to see you,’ he said. ‘I’ve been in America, and I did try to
phone you a couple of times but got no reply. The third time I tried, I got the message
that the number was unobtainable. Of course, when I got back and found Phil’s
message, I understood why. So I’ve rushed over as soon as I could today, to say
how sorry I am and to see how you are.’

‘I’m on the mend now,’ she
said as she kissed him. ‘Do come in, Patrick. I’m sorry if Phil’s
message gave you a shock.’

Over coffee Eva explained everything: the
things she’d discovered on the trip to Scotland, going to see Andrew on the way
back, and then the fire.

‘I know it was Andrew, even if it
can’t be proved. And why else would he do that unless he’d known all along
that Flora had stolen me?’

Patrick looked absolutely stunned. His mouth
opened and closed like a goldfish, and he shook his head too – as if finding it hard to
believe.

‘But the police haven’t found Sue
Carling yet to test her blood against mine. I kind of made a resolution today that I
must put it all behind me. If I don’t, I’ll go crazy.’

Patrick put his hand on her cheek and
smoothed it tenderly, a gesture that said far more than mere words. ‘You’ve
been through a terrible ordeal, and all this uncertainty must be a terrible strain on
you. But I am cheered in that Phil is taking care of you. Last time I saw you he was
just a friend, but it looks to me as if things have moved on there. Am I
right?’

Eva smiled, got up and went to the window to
beckon Phil to come in. ‘Yes, they have. And he’s going to be so pleased to
meet you. I’ve told him so much about you.’

Phil came in, drying his hands on a towel.
Eva introduced them.

‘Patrick!’ he exclaimed.
‘I glanced through the window but thought you were from the insurance company –
that’s why I didn’t come in. I am so glad to meet you at last.’

‘Do I look like an insurance
man?’ Patrick asked, grinning and shaking Phil’s hand. ‘I am so
pleased that Eva had you to lean on through all this. What a shocking
business!’

‘It certainly is.’ Phil looked
grave. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever forget the night of the fire. I was
afraid I was going to lose Eva. But she made it! We can replace a house and possessions,
but we couldn’t have replaced her.’

One of the things that Eva loved most about
Phil was his ability to mix with all kinds of people. He didn’t try to impress
them, or fawn round them; he just had a knack of asking the right questions to get
people talking, and he listened. In fact he was a far better listener than a talker, and
he made people feel special because he was genuinely interested in what they said.

The way he reacted to Patrick really pleased
her. He was as respectful as if the older man was his prospective father-in-law, yet he
didn’t try to ingratiate himself. They had a brief man-to-man conversation about
the damage done to the house, and what would be needed to rebuild it. But he also asked
about Patrick’s trip to America, and said how much he liked his children’s
book illustrations.

Later, over a bottle of wine, they told
Patrick about the best moments in Scotland and the Lake District. But inevitably they
were drawn back to discussing all that they’d discovered about Flora, and
Eva’s shock when she found out about the snatched baby.