Later that morning I rang Julia.
‘I’ve confronted Robin and I believe absolutely that he had no part in Natasha’s death and no idea of the dangers of the old mine workings,’ I blurted out confidently. ‘And I really don’t know how I could have let you or anyone else make me doubt him.’
Julia sighed. ‘Rose, it’s not just men who sometimes only have brains in their pants,’ she said.
‘Julia, you don’t understand...’ I began.
‘I think I do, Rose, only too well,’ she interrupted tetchily.
‘Julia, you’re talking about my husband, not some casual pick-up,’ I remonstrated.
‘I know, I’m sorry,’ she said, although she didn’t sound it.
‘Please listen,’ I persisted. ‘If you had heard Robin yesterday, seen him, talked to him, you would have believed him too, I’m sure of it.’
My old friend remained unconvinced.
‘I somehow doubt it, but, Rose, it’s not a question of believing or disbelieving Robin,’ she said. ‘For your sake, for the sake of all those people who died and their friends and relatives, if there is a way of actually proving that he is or isn’t telling the truth, then it should be taken.’
She had contacted Jeremy Cole, she confessed, and arranged to interview him for her paper — allegedly about his latest TV show.
‘I knew the job would come in handy for something useful one of these days,’ she said. And she agreed that she would take matters no further, and certainly not attempt to contact the police, until after the interview. We had at least a brief reprieve. I phoned Robin to tell him.
‘Nobody could prove anything anyway,’ he said, which didn’t do a lot to reassure me.
Twenty
Two days later Robin left for Ireland on a business trip and I took him to Bristol Temple Meads railway station to catch the late train up to Fishguard and then across to Rosslare. Robin preferred to travel at night if he could. He slept easily on boats and trains and liked the idea of making a journey while he did so. He said that way you didn’t waste your days.
Relations were fairly strained between us. I assured him that he had set my mind at rest, and even apologised for questioning him in the way that I had. He appeared to take it well. Certainly calmly. Typical Robin.
When I stopped the car outside the station he leaned across to kiss me gently on the lips. It felt so good, as always. Warm and caring with the promise of so much more.
‘I cannot bear to think that you don’t trust me,’ he said suddenly.
‘I have told you I’m sorry,’ I replied obliquely.
He sat there in the passenger seat with his hand on the door handle and stared at me. I realised I had to find something more to say.
‘Robin, Abri haunts me,’ I said. ‘I’ll never get over what happened, and I just can’t stop thinking about it and going over it again and again in my mind.’
‘How do you think it is for me?’ he asked quietly.
‘I know. And I really am sorry about doubting you. I just get so mixed up...’ And that, God knows, was the truth. I truly was so dreadfully sorry, and so dreadfully mixed up.
‘Shhhh,’ he said, as if he were soothing a small child. And then he kissed me again. I melted in his arms as usual and felt, just for a moment, a return of the old closeness. ‘I have to have all of you, Rose,’ he whispered.
I knew what he meant.
‘You do have all of me,’ I told him.
‘Do I?’ he asked, and he wasn’t comforting me any more. I could hear the strain in his voice and knew how much he needed comfort and reassurance from me, but I did not know what more to say. He waited a few seconds, then picked up his bag from the rear seat, got out of the car and set off across the wide pavement to the station entrance. He did not look back.
I wanted to run after him, but I told myself we both needed a bit of space. I would hear from Julia soon, she would have learned the whole thing was a big mistake and Robin and I could just get on with our lives at last. I felt as if I was being torn apart. Half of me admonished the other half for even needing confirmation of that. I should trust my husband irrevocably, regardless of tittle-tattle from London — but the truth was that, much as I wished I could, I didn’t.
On the way home I stopped off briefly at the off-licence at the end of our road. I needed some mineral water and I decided to treat myself to a rather extravagant sleeping potion — a bottle of eighteen-year-old The Macallan in the hope that it might help me fall quickly asleep. Since Julia’s call I had barely slept at all. And even a drunken stupor is preferable to lying restlessly awake all night.
I parked in the driveway alongside our big Victorian house, picked up my carrier bag of goodies from the passenger seat and headed for the back door, which both Robin and I used most of the time. As I fumbled with the lock I could hear the telephone ringing inside the house, which of course turned all my fingers to butter. As soon as I had eventually successfully gained entry, I dashed straight for the phone in the kitchen, leaving the carrier bag by the open back door.
It was the call I had hoped for and yet feared.
‘Hi,’ said Julia. And there was something in the tone of her voice just in that one word which filled me with dread. ‘I’ve got a letter you should see,’ she told me bluntly.
The news she had for me was just what I hadn’t wanted to hear.
‘I was with Jeremy Cole for a good two hours or so, eventually I simply came straight out with the true reason for my visit. It was extraordinary. He just caved in. It can happen some times when you take people by surprise. That’s why journalists doorstep...’
‘Julia, tell me what Cole said,’ I interrupted. I could sense a reluctance in her, as if she knew how much what she had to say was going to hurt, and I heard her take a deep breath.
‘Apparently he and Natasha had remained on quite good terms right up until her death, and he admitted that she had actually contacted him and told him that she was studying the history of Abri Island and was fascinated by the gold-mining industry that had gone on there in Victorian times. He said that she had always seemed very interested in his work when they were together, and that had probably sparked her off. Then he went and fetched this letter which Natasha had written him in which she asked him if they could meet and if he would look at some maps she had of the Abri mining network and give her his opinion...’
‘Julia, for goodness’ sake,’ I interrupted. ‘AKEKO had their own team of experts pouring over those maps. Even after the event the enquiry agreed that the Abri maps gave no cause for concern, because they didn’t tell the whole picture.’
‘I’m sorry Rose, there’s more than that,’ Julia replied. ‘Natasha remarked in the letter how beautifully drawn and detailed the maps were and what good condition they were in considering their age. She actually gave the date of the latest of them as being 1862.’
I could feel my heart pounding.