‘Your vasectomy, for starters.’
‘How did you…?’ Jon looked genuinely surprised.
‘You told me. Remember? Right here in the Cherub. After England won the Tournoi de France in 1997?’
‘I did?’
Paul nodded.
‘I must have been shit-faced.’
‘You might say that.’ Paul waited for that to sink in before asking, ‘So, why does a perfectly healthy man decide to have himself fixed…?’
Jon seemed to crumple before us, his body shrinking two sizes within his freshly pressed Cambridge blue shirt.
I finally spoke up. ‘Alison doesn’t know, does she?’
Jon closed his eyes, wagged his head, confirming my suspicions. ‘I always meant to tell her, but the time never seemed right.’ He looked up, his pale eyes somber. ‘It started out as just a little deception. I don’t know how it got so out of hand. I may even have broken the law.’
Now I was really confused. ‘Broken the law? Honestly, Jon, I don’t see the connection.’
Jon took a deep breath, let it out slowly, making us wait. ‘I didn’t tell the police that Beth committed suicide.’
I looked at Paul and Paul looked at me, then we both stared slack-jawed at Jon.
‘There was a note. It wasn’t…’ He sighed, shook his head. ‘It wasn’t addressed to me, it was for Kitty. But she was so young, just learning to read, really. I couldn’t show it to her then, could I? And later? Well, I’d met Alison by then. Fell head over heels in love with her.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘Kitty took to Alison right away, too. How could I tell my daughter that her mum was a suicide, and that it was her fault?’
‘Your pronouns are confusing me, Jon,’ I said. ‘Whose fault? Surely you don’t mean that Kitty…’
Jon raised a hand, cutting me off. ‘After Kitty was born, Beth had a severe case of post-partum depression bordering at times on psychosis. One day, I came into the nursery and caught Beth holding a pillow over the baby’s face.’ What little color remained in Jon’s face promptly drained away. He gulped some of his lager, regained composure. ‘We got Beth into treatment, of course, but I couldn’t trust her alone with Kitty after that, not even for a minute. It took all the money we had, but I hired a nanny. When the nanny wasn’t available, or I had to be out of town, Kitty stayed with her grandmother in Exeter, or my mother would come to us.
‘We kept Beth’s condition quiet, of course. In public, she’d appear to be fine, but at home, she’d sometimes sink into depression for days at a time. And when she refused to take her medication…’ Jon let the sentence die, while I filled the silence with all kinds of horror scenarios gleaned from watching too many cop shows on television.
‘I see,’ Paul said. ‘You couldn’t take a chance of having any more children with Beth.’
Jon nodded glumly. ‘Beth refused to have her tubes tied, so I had to do something.’
‘Why didn’t you tell Alison?’ I wanted to know. ‘Why did you let her go on believing it was her fault she couldn’t have any children?’
‘I’m not proud of it, Hannah. It’s just that I loved Alison so much, I was afraid that she’d leave me if she knew.’
‘I don’t think you know Alison very well, then, Jon.’
‘What happened to the suicide note?’ Paul asked.
Jon stared at the ancient ship timbers that held up the ceiling of the fourteenth-century building. ‘It was a horrid, rambling thing. Beth in full off-meds mode. “I’m going to kill myself before I kill my child.” On and on and on. I was going to destroy the note, Ives, but in the end, I couldn’t. It’s in a safety deposit box at the bank.’
‘But why keep the note secret from the police?’ I wondered aloud. ‘Was there a suicide clause in Beth’s life insurance policy or something?’
‘It was nothing to do with life insurance!’ Jon exploded, slamming his fist on the table so hard that I had to grab my glass to keep it from toppling. ‘Don’t you understand? It was all about Kitty. I couldn’t burden a six-year-old with the knowledge that her mother was so unsuited to motherhood that she killed herself over it!’
Jon covered his eyes with his hands, breathing deeply. ‘At dinner that night?’ he continued in a calmer tone of voice. ‘When Susan Parker said she felt a pain in her head, I knew that my suspicions were right.’
So, Susan Parker had gotten to him. ‘What suspicions?’
Jon spread his hands out on the tabletop, fingers splayed. ‘My father had a German Luger from the Second World War. When he died, it came to me. I kept it in a box on the top of the wardrobe in the bedroom. The gun went missing the day Beth did.’
‘Jesus!’ In that instant, I saw it all. Beth, balancing on the stern of BidingThyme, aiming the gun at her head, pulling the trigger. Beth and the gun toppling backwards into the sea, leaving only the tiniest speck of blood to mark her passing.
Paul reached out, squeezed his friend’s shoulder. ‘You should tell the police.’
Jon blinked back tears. ‘Why? It’s not going to change anything. Accident or suicide, Beth is just as dead.’
I reached out and covered one of Jon’s hands with mine. ‘But Alison needs to know, Jon. Tell her. Tell her everything. She thinks you’re still deeply in love with Beth.’
‘I’ve really fucked up, haven’t I?’ Jon lay his head on his hands and began to cry.
SEVENTEEN
‘The UK government annual statistics 2007 reveal that over 3.2 million animals suffer and die in British laboratories in experiments that “may cause pain, suffering, distress and lasting harm”. An estimated additional 8 million animals are bred and then destroyed as surplus to requirements.’www.Uncaged.co.uk
Another drink later, we left Jon, after extracting from him a promise that he’d have a heart-to-heart with Alison at the earliest possible opportunity.
Rather than return immediately to the B &B, Paul and I decided to hike to the medieval Castle that guarded the mouth of the Dart, hoping the spectacular scenery might lift our spirits. We were nearly there when my iPhone began to vibrate. I fished it out of the pocket of my jeans. I didn’t recognize the number. ‘Hello?’ I said a bit breathlessly. Paul has long legs, and I have to work to keep up.
‘Hannah, it’s Olivia Sandman. I would have called you sooner, but I had trouble dialing the US number, and my calls didn’t go through. Just got this weird buzzing. I’m at the Orange shop now, and they helped me out.’
I rested against the railing that separated me from a twenty-five-foot drop into the sea, and watched my husband’s back disappear around a bend. ‘I’m glad you called, Olivia. How can I help?’
‘It’s complicated,’ she said.
‘I’m listening.’
‘Remember when you asked me about Alf and where he was the day that medium got herself killed? And I said we was in Glastonbury?’
‘Yes.’ My heart did a flop as I suspected (hoped!) I knew where Olivia was going.
‘Well, we was, but he wasn’t.’
‘Where was he, then, Olivia?’
She waited a beat. ‘Look, I can’t talk now, but if you meet me, I can show you something.’
‘Where will you be, Olivia?’
‘Down in Kingsbridge. Today is when we picket the Biozencorp animal testing labs. We’ll be just outside the gates. Like they’d let us in! Hah hah. You can tell Alf you’re interested in joining us or something.’
I thought about Olivia’s plan for less than half a second before realizing I’d have to come up with a Plan B. No way I wanted to look at, let alone carry, a picket sign with a photo of a rheumy-eyed rabbit, or a cat with electrodes screwed into its tiny skull, or a crippled dog. My stomach lurched.
‘I’ll think of something, Olivia.’
‘OK. But be cool. And don’t say much.’