‘Could you describe exactly where the room was?’
Carole caught on to what her neighbour was doing and listened intently as Vi fixed the precise location of her mother’s last residence. ‘Of course, they was tiny little compartments. Big rooms divided up with partitions to fit in as many paying customers as possible. Not much better than rabbit hutches, really.’
‘And, in your mother’s room,’ asked Jude excitedly, ‘was there a sort of triangular alcove that had been boarded over?’
She was due for a disappointment. ‘No,’ said Vi Benyon firmly. ‘The room was just a rectangle, a bit of it partitioned off for the bathroom, of course. No secret compartments or odd bits sticking out anywhere.’
‘Oh,’ said Jude flatly. Carole looked equally deflated.
‘Mind you,’ said Vi, ‘your alcove could have been in the room next door.’
‘Did you know the resident who had that room?’ asked Carole. The moment she’d said it, she realized it was a rather useless question. They were talking about thirty years before. And the basic reason why people go to a care home is to die. They weren’t going to find any useful witnesses still extant.
But Vi Benyon’s reply was more helpful than she’d expected. ‘That room didn’t have any residents in it. It was a staff bedroom. You know, if one of the carers had to stay overnight, that’s where they’d go.’
‘Did you ever go into the room?’
‘No, Jude. It was always locked. And visitors weren’t encouraged to go wandering round other residents’ rooms, anyway.’
‘Did you ever hear people inside the room?’
‘No. Well, I wouldn’t have done. It was a bedroom for overnight stays, and I was always visiting Mum during the daytime … until the very end, that is.’
‘And the room was narrow?’ asked Jude.
‘I told you. They all were. Like rabbit hutches.’
Carole could tell, from Jude’s expression, that these questions had a logical relevance for her. Frustratingly, she could also tell that the explanation wouldn’t come until the two of them were alone together.
But the momentary silence gave Carole an opportunity to redirect the investigation down a path of her choosing. ‘The other person, we’ve heard rumours, who might have had more than friendly designs on Anita Garner was Glen Porter. You say your son Kent was at school with him …?’
‘Yes.’
‘And Glen was popular with the girls?’
‘Popular at first. They couldn’t get enough of him. Less popular when he dumped them.’
‘Ah. And you think Anita might have been one of his conquests?’
‘According to Kent, Glen claimed she was. But I’m not so sure.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because of what I’ve just talked about. The Catholic thing. Fear of her dad. I’m sure a lot of the girls at school would have fallen for Glen Porter’s rather obvious charms. I’m not sure that Anita Garner would have done, though.’
‘But, according to Kent, Glen claimed to have seduced her?’
‘Kent didn’t actually put it in those words. Glen more “implied” than actually “claimed”. With boys round that age, there’s a lot of big talk, claiming they’ve had sex with lots of girls they’ve never been near.’
‘So, you don’t think Glen Porter did have sex with Anita Garner?’
‘I’d be surprised, because of the kind of girl I knew she was. Afraid of her father’s reaction, like I said. But a Jack-the-Lad like Glen would make all kinds of claims. Boys of that age can be very cruel. Say nasty things about girls which the girls themselves can’t deny. All kinds of rubbish. And I gather it’s worse now with all this social media they’ve got. Sending compromising photos to all and sundry – horrible. Thank God I’m too old to have anything to do with Facebook and Witter.’
Neither of the women corrected her. In fact, both thought the malapropism was rather appropriate.
Jude went off on another tangent. ‘Did your mother ever hear Anita mention a Spanish boyfriend called Pablo?’
‘No. Anita never mentioned any boyfriends to her.’
Carole offered more drinks. Vi was happy to accept another large Scotch. Jude didn’t have to spell out her order. Fortunately, the pub had filled up a bit since Carole had last been at the bar. Brandie was still there. She responded warmly to the strained smile she was offered. But Ted Crisp was busy with customers, so the ‘lovie’ dialogue was, at least temporarily, suspended.
Back in the alcove, Vi Benyon was silent for a moment. Then she said to Jude, ‘You know, this talk of Anita Garner brings it all back to me. That time, with Mum so ill. I sort of feel guilty sometimes.’
‘Why? Why should you feel guilty?’ asked Jude.
‘I just feel, had I been concentrating, had I been more aware of what was going on at Footscrow House, I could have maybe worked out what happened to the poor girl.’
‘You shouldn’t blame yourself.’
‘Shouldn’t, I agree. But I still do. And when I think about that time, it makes me feel uncomfortable. Strange sort of feeling … the feeling that there’s still someone around in Fethering who knows where Anita Garner is.’
‘And do you still feel that, now Harry Lasalle’s dead?’
‘Yes. It’s a kind of instinct, you know. And it’s an instinct that I feel more strongly than ever. Someone in Fethering knows what happened to Anita Garner.’
Pete was used to Jude’s morning routine, so when he arrived on the Thursday, one of his finishing-off days, he was surprised to find her up and dressed. She didn’t mention that she had woken early, excited at the prospect of seeing him. Not a sexual excitement, an investigative one.
But she did go through the ritual of providing him with a cup of coffee (white with one sugar) before she broached what she wanted to talk about.
‘Pete, remember when we found the handbag …?’
‘Hardly going to forget about it, am I? While no one in Fethering can leave the subject alone.’
‘You told me that, when you were doing that refurbishment of Footscrow House – prior to it ceasing to be a care home and becoming a boutique hotel …’
‘Yes,’ he said, puzzled. ‘So, what did I say?’
‘You said that you were only working on the ground floor at that time.’
‘Did I? Then perhaps I was. Or perhaps that’s what I remember. Jude, I’ve been working as a decorator for nearly forty years. You wouldn’t believe the number of properties in the Fethering area I’ve been in and out of. And when we’re talking about a place I’ve decorated lots of times, like Fiasco House … I had a call yesterday, confirming I’ll be back there on Monday, painting it yet again. But, like I say, my memory for whether I painted the upstairs or the downstairs of the place, way back at the beginning of my career … well, my recollection could be a little bit hazy.’
He sounded completely guileless, just mildly surprised at her line of questioning. And what he said was plausible. But Jude did want to be completely sure.
‘You said at the time we found the handbag, you’d never been in that room at Footscrow House before.’
‘Well, I hadn’t, had I?’
‘I wondered if, perhaps, you’d been in part of that room.’
‘“Part of …”?’ He looked even more bewildered. ‘What you on about, Jude?’
‘When Footscrow House was a care home, the big upstairs rooms must’ve been divided into smaller units.’
‘Yes, you betcha. Harry Lasalle was always trying to boost his profits. He’d fit in as many paying customers as he could. Their rooms were like rabbit hutches.’ That was clearly a favourite Fethering simile. ‘Mind you, he still couldn’t make a go of it as a business.’ The decorator chuckled.