It was Kent Warboys. ‘I wondered if we could have a chat, Jude.’
‘Yes, of course. About anything in particular?’
‘About Sara. I’m worried about her.’
The arrangement that they had made was that Jude would go to Kent’s home late afternoon and use the excursion for Gulliver’s second walk of the day. The architect lived on the opposite bank of the Fether estuary from the Fethering Yacht Club. Only a few hundred yards away. But getting to his house involved walking back up the towpath to the last road bridge before the sea and then walking back on the other side. The few hundred yards as the crow flies became a mile, a perfect workout for Gulliver.
Kent Warboys’ house was a conversion from some old fishermen’s huts, which had been about to collapse when he’d bought them, and they provided a very good sales pitch for the kind of sympathetic development on which Warboys Heritage Construction prided itself. Though the building had every state-of-the-art modern amenity, it still retained the outline of its former usage and looked as if it had always stood there at the junction of the Fether and the English Channel.
Just before she rang the doorbell, Jude checked again with her mobile. There was no message from Fulham. Disquiet within her grew.
Kent was very welcoming when he let her and Gulliver in and led them to an upstairs sitting room whose windows, filling one whole wall, commanded stunning views over the sea. The weather outside might have been icy cold, but the interior was very cosy. Jude could see no sign of a fireplace, stove or radiators. No doubt the building was warmed by the latest unseen heating technology.
Kent offered her a drink and asked if he could get some water for Gulliver. ‘Used to have a Lab myself, know how thirsty they can get.’
Jude accepted the offer on the dog’s behalf and said she’d like a glass of white wine. Kent had a bottle of New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc in the fridge, which was perfect. He poured himself a Becks beer.
‘Thanks so much for coming over,’ he said.
‘No problem. You say you’re worried about Sara …?’
‘Yes. And I know she’s been to see you about some of the … problems she’s had in the past—’
‘She has, but—’
‘I know, I know. She’s one of your clients and I understand that – like anyone involved in medicine – you have a duty of client confidentiality.’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘So I wouldn’t dream of asking you to tell me about secrets she might have confided in you in the course of your healing sessions.’
‘Thank you.’ Jude was once again impressed by Kent Warboys’ apparent honesty. He seemed to be genuinely thoughtful and aware of other people’s sensibilities.
‘But, Jude, if I tell you things that Sara has told me, then we can discuss those, can’t we? No confidentiality issue there, is there?’
‘No,’ Jude replied cautiously.
‘And look, I should start by saying that I’m really deeply serious about my relationship with Sara. I’ve been bowled over by her ever since I met her. And I really do want this to be something that continues – ideally forever.’
‘Good. I gather that she’s pretty serious too.’
‘I hope so. She says so. And I know things were a bit sticky for her over Christmas. My fault. I went too fast. Shouldn’t have brought the kids and the ex-wife into the equation so early. But I think she pulled through okay.’
‘I got that impression, yes.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. But listen, Jude, I know from things Sara has told me that she has recently had a fairly major breakdown.’
‘Yes, she has.’
‘But she’s coming out of it and she’s feeling a lot more positive. And I think a lot of that is down to the sessions you’ve been doing with her.’
Jude shrugged. ‘I hope I’ve helped. Most of it is down to her, though. She’s worked stuff out for herself.’
‘Mm.’ Kent paused for a moment and took a long swig of his beer. Gulliver panted contentedly on the carpet. ‘What I really want to know, Jude, is how strong Sara is …?’
‘Strong for what?’
‘For going back to work.’
‘Well, she’s been working at Polly’s until quite recently.’
‘Yes, but just as a waitress. Way below her skill level. And she was getting very frustrated by it. Sara has run her own restaurant for years, after all. And she wants to get back into some kind of managerial role, which is quite honestly where she belongs. But I’m just wondering whether she is strong enough to be applying for jobs of that kind.’
‘I’d say it was up to her. If Sara thinks she can cope, then I’m sure she can cope.’
‘Hm.’ Kent’s tone didn’t make it sound as if Jude had resolved the problem to his full satisfaction. ‘It’s just … when she describes the kind of state she was in – you know, hallucinating, seeing things that weren’t there …’
‘It’s not an unusual symptom of stress, and she had been suffering from a very high level of stress.’
‘Yes. If I were ever to meet that bastard, her ex-boyfriend, well, I don’t think I’d be responsible for my actions.’ Kent Warboys spoke with a rather frightening cold passion that Jude hadn’t heard from him before.
‘Let’s hope you don’t meet him then.’
‘Right.’ But there was a tinge of regret in his voice. Then he moved on. ‘I’m fortunate. I’ve never had any kind of mental illness. You know, I’ve had my frustrations in my professional life. When you run a company, the bigger the scale of the operation, the more problems you get.’
‘Are you talking about Warboys Heritage Construction?’
‘No, that’s a relatively new company for me, and now I’m a bit cannier about how to run things. There have been so many companies over the years, though, most of which have had to be wound up at some point.’
‘Why?’
‘Oh, the usual reasons – cash-flow problems, bankrupt subcontractors, clients who refuse to pay, unreliable partners, criminal partners, you name it. My first company was called Warboys Design and Build, then I was Fit The Build for a while; terrible name – my then partner’s choice, not mine, I hasten to add. Then I was … Anyway, none of this is important. I was talking about how lucky I am never to have been depressed. So yes, there have been frustrations in my professional life, and in my personal life too, come to that – but they’ve just made me bloody angry. Never depressed, never not trusting my own eyes as to whether what I’m seeing is real or not. The way Sara describes it … God, it’s scary.’
‘It is, yes.’
‘Have you ever …?’
Jude shook her head. ‘But I’ve seen enough evidence of the misery it can cause.’
‘I’m sure you have. Still, I think it’s good that people are more open about mental illness these days.’
‘I agree completely.’
‘I mean nowadays you hardly ever read an interview with an actor or singer who hasn’t had some kind of battle with depression.’
‘It’s an essential part of a contemporary showbusiness CV,’ said Jude with some cynicism.
‘Everything’s much more transparent these days. Get your secrets out in the open: that seems to be the modern mantra, and a very good one too. Imagine, even ten years ago, the idea of same-sex marriage being legal.’
‘Yes, there has been improvement in some areas,’ Jude agreed cautiously.
‘I mean, I’m sure you and Carole must’ve noticed the change.’
Jude was totally confused. ‘Sorry?’
‘Well, nowadays you don’t get any hassle about your relationship, do you?’
Finally she caught on to what he was saying and, with difficulty avoiding giggling, replied, ‘No, we don’t get any hassle at all.’
From previous experience, Jude knew that there was a small element in the Fethering community who, because the two women were seen around so much together, assumed that Carole and Jude were a lesbian couple. Jude always found references to this hysterically funny. Carole was less amused.
The thought of her friend took Jude’s mind to the children’s ward of a hospital in Fulham. She framed a silent, nondenominational prayer for the health of Chloe Seddon.
‘Mental illness is scary, though,’ Kent went on. ‘I mean, have you seen those scars on Sara’s arms?’ Jude nodded. ‘How much do you have to hate yourself to start doing that? And there are other awful symptoms she’s told me about. At her worst Sara claims to have seen whole scenarios that just didn’t exist.’ Another silence, another swig of beer. ‘She told me she’d once seen a dead body.’
‘Oh.’
‘In Polly’s – back in the day when it was still Polly’s Cake Shop, not Polly’s Community Café. She told me she’d seen this body of a man who’d been shot, there in the store room.’
‘Did you believe her?’
‘Well, no. I mean, I believed her when she told me that she’d had the hallucination. But I don’t believe she’d actually seen the body, no.’ He looked at Jude shrewdly. ‘I suppose it wouldn’t be … proper for me to ask if she’d ever mentioned that hallucination to you?’
She was quite relieved to be able to say, ‘No, it wouldn’t be proper.’
‘I thought not.’
‘Has she mentioned it recently … you know, seeing the body?’
‘No. She only talked about it once. When she was trying to explain to me how low she felt at times. It was just when we were starting to get to know each other … you know, that stage when you tell your new partner the worst things about yourself, to see if it’ll put them off.’
‘And what Sara told you didn’t put you off?’
‘No, it’s her I love … and I guess the mental fragility just comes along as part of the package.’
‘Hm. And what did you tell her?’
‘Sorry?’
‘What were the worst things about you?’
He chuckled. ‘Nothing, I’m glad to say … or at least nothing that put her off.’ And Jude realized that was all the answer she was going to get.
So, cautiously, she moved on to another subject. ‘Sara never said to you, did she, whether she recognized the body she claimed to have seen? Whether it looked like someone she knew?’
‘No,’ said Kent. But was Jude being hypersensitive to detect a new carefulness in his reply? Was he really unaware of the connection between the body seen in Polly’s store room and the one found on Fethering Beach?
‘Anyway,’ he went on, ‘you reckon I should encourage Sara to apply for managerial jobs? You think she’s up to it?’
‘I think Sara has a very shrewd estimation of her own abilities. If she reckons she’s up to anything, then I’m sure she is.’
‘Thank you, that’s really helpful. I’m sorry to have bothered you, but I didn’t really know who else to ask. There aren’t that many people around who know Sara really well. She was so locked up in that relationship with the bastard restaurateur that she doesn’t seem to have many friends.
‘Which is actually another thing that we have in common,’ Kent added.
Jude looked at him in some surprise.
‘Oh, I’ve got any number of acquaintances, I see a lot of people in the course of my work, but I wouldn’t say I have many close friends.’
‘So, when you’re in a relationship with someone, it tends to be very closed-in and exclusive, does it?’
‘I suppose it does, really, yes.’
‘Which must make things painful if it breaks up.’
‘Yes, the closer a couple are, the more pain when it does end.’ Kent looked at Jude as if he felt he had to defend himself. ‘Look, I know you’re a friend of hers, but I swear I have no intention to hurt Sara. I’m not denying I’ve had other relationships since the divorce where we’ve got very close, but it didn’t work … you know, different priorities, age difference, women wanting children when I’ve already got some; all the usual reasons. But I do sincerely believe that in Sara I have finally found the right one.’
‘Good.’
‘And well, it’s been strange, this extended Christmas break. It’s a long time to spend together when a relationship’s fairly new. I just hope I haven’t crowded Sara, haven’t been too full-on for her.’ He looked a little anxious. ‘And maybe that’s why she insisted on going up to London to do some shopping today. Perhaps I was making her feel a bit claustrophobic. Perhaps she needed a bit of space.’
‘Maybe. Mind you, I should point out that some of the January sales have started early. Even the Sunday after Christmas is quite a popular day for shopping.’
He chuckled. ‘Yes, I hadn’t thought of that.’
‘I wouldn’t worry about a thing, Kent. I’m sure the pair of you’ll be fine.’
‘I hope so. I sincerely hope so.’
‘Well, Gulliver and I must be on our way.’ Jude stood up and moved closer to the window. She looked down at the garden. It was neatly laid out and well looked after, though there wasn’t much growing at that time of year.
Kent followed her eye-line. ‘As you can imagine, only very hardy stuff survives down there. All the salt spray and the wind.’
‘I’m sure.’ She noticed there was a locked gate in the wall that led down to the beach. And, just inside it, on a light trailer, was a silver-coloured rubber dinghy.
‘Do you use that much?’ she asked.
‘Oh, just for pottering around. My real boat’s in the Fethering Yacht Club marina – or moored to the few pontoons they have the nerve to call a marina.’
‘Hm.’ Jude looked across the river mouth to the main expanse of Fethering Beach. ‘It was over there, of course, that my friend Carole and I found the body of Amos Green,’ she said casually.
‘Yes, I heard about that.’
She turned to face him. Her brown eyes, though gentle and compassionate, could also be compelling, not to say transfixing. ‘Sara told me that you knew Amos Green.’
‘She told me she’d mentioned that to you. But I should say that “knew” is rather overstating the situation. I had dealings with Amos Green many years ago when I was doing some development in the Kingston area. He was on the local council there, involved in planning applications. I never knew him socially.’
‘And you haven’t seen him since?’
‘God, no.’
‘And you don’t know of any connections he had with Fethering?’
‘None at all,’ said Kent Warboys.