Conflicted Innocence Page 18

  “Come on, Missie-moo. Let’s get dressed.”

  Half an hour later, we strolled around to the nursery.

  Wendy flushed crimson as we entered and mumbled something to another member of staff before tipping her head in my direction.

  I nodded at them both and turned towards the manager’s office.

  Cynthia Gordon answered my knock. We hadn’t met before but she knew who I was. She ushered us inside and made a fuss of Grace.

  “Take a seat, Geraldine,” she said, pushing a box of toys towards us then walked around the desk.

  I sat Grace in front of the box and she gurgled happily, dragging a large bright orange, wheel-shaped item out and put it straight to her mouth.

  I shook my head and raised my eyes to the ceiling.

  Cynthia laughed.

  “Okay,” I said. “You obviously know what this is about, and I want to start by saying I appreciate the reason Wendy refused to allow my daughter to leave the other day.”

  Cynthia nodded. “She had Grace’s best interests at heart.”

  “Of course. I understand her concerns, and her need to make sure I was aware of Lydia’s conviction before releasing Grace into her care. However, once she spoke to me and I confirmed I did know, she should have backed off and let Lydia take my daughter home.”

  “I know. You’re right. It’s just that Wendy was a friend of your neighbour’s sister when the little boy died, and it affected her badly. In actual fact, she was on the phone to her friend when she found him in the bath. His death played an active part in why Wendy chose a career with children.”

  “If you understand how the child’s death might have affected Wendy, could you please try to understand the effect it had on Lydia? She made a terrible mistake and subsequently, her son lost his life. She’s going to pay for that every day for the rest of her life without people rubbing her nose in it every two minutes.”

  Cynthia opened her mouth as though to say something, paused, then sighed. “I agree. It’s unforgivable. I’m sorry.” She held her hands up. “So, what can we do to make it right?”

  “I dunno. I don’t even know if I want to bring Grace here anymore.”

  “That would be a shame. Grace loves it here and Wendy, although misguided, had Grace’s best interests at heart.”

  I had to agree, Grace did enjoy it there. When we’d arrived earlier she did her excited leg shaking dance in her pushchair.

  “Well, maybe a written apology to Lydia. She’s such a lovely woman and this could have set her back months.”

  “Consider it done.”

  “From Wendy—not you.”

  “Of course. And, if you like, you can leave Grace with us today. I’m sure you’ve got lots of things you could be getting on with.”

  I shrugged. “I s’pose.” Wanting to play hard to get, but thinking I could do with a bit of me time after the night I’d had.

  Back home, I had just got the key in the lock when Candice appeared at the adjoining hedge.

  “So you forgave them, then?”

  “They apologised, and Wendy will be writing a letter to Lydia. I guess I couldn’t ask for more. I made my point and let them know I wasn’t happy.”

  “So the bitch gets away with treating my sister like a piece of shit?”

  “I wouldn’t say that! She’s sufficiently embarrassed by her actions.”

  Candice stomped back to her front door.

  “Oh, Candy?”

  She bobbed her head back out.

  “Is it true you were on the phone to Wendy when Joseph drowned?”

  Her expression changed to one of intense horror, and her cheeks instantly flushed. “I—I can’t remember. Probably.”

  “Oh, I thought you two didn’t get on. You told me she used to bully you.”

  “We were typical bitchy girls—friends one minute and enemies the next.”

  She shut the door with a bang.

  Inside, I began cleaning up from breakfast. Grace’s highchair was smeared with Marmite, and I had no choice but to dismantle it and put the cover, straps and all, in the washing machine.

  Something still niggled me. Why couldn’t I get it?

  As I loaded the dishwasher, my mind wandered to Monica and Harold, and whether or not they had been arrested yet. I couldn’t see the police getting very far with Monica, or even if her ramblings would be admissible, considering her state of mind. But the dress and the gun were more than enough to convict them with, surely.

  Suddenly, a thought struck me. I stood bolt upright and threw the dishwasher powder back on the bench, before running outside.

  The house on the unattached side of us looked as neglected and abandoned as it always did. I shuddered as I approached the green, faded and cracked front door.

  Trembling, I lifted the metal knocker and tapped lightly. My knees threatened to give way on me as I heard a shuffling sound from within, followed by the fiddling of several chains.

  The door opened and Mad Thomas peered out around it, his petrified expression was replaced by confusion, as he looked me up and down.

  “Hi Thomas. Do you remember me? I’m Geri, from next door.” My words were slow and loud.

  “Not deaf.” He motioned for me to step inside and walked away leaving the door to swing freely.

  I hesitated, glancing about me, wishing I’d waited until James was home, before following him inside the jumbled, yet surprisingly tidy house.

  I sidestepped a huge pile of newspaper and magazines in the hallway and marvelled at the neat tower of cardboard food packaging, wondering how it hadn’t toppled over before now.

  I found Thomas sitting beside a drop leaf table in the kitchen, rolling a cigarette. He shoved the tobacco tin towards me.

  “No thanks. I don’t smoke.” I smiled, taking this as some sort of acceptance of me—which was a far cry from the first time our paths crossed.

  I perched on the edge of the only other chair and glanced around, taking in his stained grey T-shirt and what appeared to be dried egg on his bearded chin. More neat piles of cardboard and rubbish filled the room, making me think he must be the tidiest hoarder in the world. On top of the cooker was one misshapen pan and an old-fashioned steam kettle. The sink had a pile of clean dishes stacked on the draining board. A fruit bowl held a couple of borderline-rotten plums and half a banana. I turned back to face Thomas, at a complete loss as to what to say to him.

  He finished rolling his cigarette and licked the paper before tucking it behind his ear. Then, he looked at me questioningly.

  “You—you remember baby Joseph, don’t you?”

  He cocked his head to one side as though thinking.

  “Joey,” I said. “Baby Joey.”

  A dark and hooded expression clouded his face.

  “Not guildy.” He nodded. “Not guildy.”

  “Do you know something, Thomas? Do you know what happened that day?”

  He nodded his head furiously, and I began to regret coming alone once again.

  “Can—can you tell me what happened?”

  He stood and I flinched back in my chair, terrified what he had in mind. Then he spun on the spot and headed out the back door, beckoning for me to follow at the last second.

  I paused. Maybe it would be best if I scarpered now while I still had the chance. But the need to know what happened to Lydia’s tiny tot spurred me on. I stepped out into the overgrown jungle, surprised once again to see a chair next to a small table, which had an overflowing ashtray in the middle of it.

  Thomas lit his cigarette and nodded his head towards the back of our semi.

  For the first time I realised the houses weren’t the same shape out the back. Thomas’ had an extension and from where I stood, at the back door, I was adjacent with the centre of our garden giving a perfect view of our houses.

  I glanced at him for more information, and he pointed his cigarette towards Lydia’s house and what I knew to be Joseph’s bedroom.

  “Did you see something tha
t morning, Thomas?”

  His lips tightened into a thin line and I thought he had decided to clam up until he nodded.

  “Guildy.” He took a deep drag on his ciggie and I noticed his fingers were trembling.

  “Thomas, did you see Candice bathing Joseph on the morning he drowned?” I asked softly.

  “Guildy—guildy—guildy.” He nodded.

  Horrified, I stared at the poor man and realised he must have been holding onto this secret for all these years, unable to make himself heard. No wonder he was driven slowly mad by it all.

  For the second time in two days, the ramblings of a person suffering a mental illness had solved a crime.

  I reached for his trembling hand and grasped his fingers in mine. “Thank you, Thomas. I will put this right. I promise.”

  Tears filled the old man’s gentle blue eyes.

  I raced from the place, not really thinking my next move through. I just wanted to confront Candice before Lydia and Lee got back.

  “Oh, it’s you,” she said, as she answered my knock.

  “Hi Candice. Can I come in?”

  She shrugged her shoulder and stepped back to allow me to enter. “Lydia’s gone out.”

  “I know. It’s you I want to see.”

  She eyed me suspiciously and then led me through to the kitchen.

  I was itching to blurt it all out and had to bite my tongue so as not to mess the whole thing up.

  “Drink?” She nodded at the kettle.

  “Not for me, thanks. May I?” I indicated the dining table.

  “Yeah, take a pew.”

  “I’m curious. Could you please go over the events of the morning Joseph died?”

  “Why?”

  “Like I said, I’m curious about something.”

  “I got here and found Joey dead in the bath—end of.”

  “So, how did you let yourself in?” I asked.

  “The back door, it was always open, and Lydia didn’t like me knocking in case I woke Joey up.”

  “And that morning, you let yourself in and came through to the hallway and up the stairs?”

  She nodded, giving me a squinty-eyed glare.

  “Were you on your phone?”

  She shrugged. “Probably.”

  “And you went upstairs and found baby Joey in the bath. Already dead?”

  “I just told you I did, didn’t I?”

  I raised my eyebrows and nodded. “Yes, you did. But some things just don’t add up.”

  “What doesn’t add up? I don’t know—solve one fucking crime and suddenly you’re Nancy Drew.”

  I smiled. “Getting a little hot under your collar there, aren’t you Candice?”

  “Get out! You’re talking shit, and I don’t have time for it.”

  “Fair enough. I’ll just ring Lydia and Lee and ask them to clarify a few things.”

  “What fucking things?” she yelled.

  “Well, for one. When Lydia told me what happened that day, she said she woke to the sound of the front door slamming and you running upstairs.”

  “Yeah, I said that.”

  “No. You said the back door. The front door only opens from inside if you haven’t got a key.”

  “She—she must’ve been confused. It was the back door.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  She sneered at me and exhaled noisily. “So how the fuck did I get in then? You already said the front door was closed from inside.”

  “I know. But you see, I’ve just had an interesting discussion with Mad Thomas.”

  “So what?”

  “He was in his garden having a smoke that morning,” I said, filling in the gaps with my own imagination. “And he saw who lifted Joey out of his cot and carried him through to the bath, and it wasn’t Lydia.”

  She got to her feet with a start. “Bullshit! That old bastard’s doolally. Who’d believe a word out of his mouth?”

  “I would, actually. You see, I think I know exactly what happened.”

  “Go on, Nancy—enlighten me.”

  “I think you arrived, just as you said you did. You entered and when you couldn’t find Lydia down here, you went upstairs and found Joey in his cot, his bath run and you decided to get him ready.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Then what happened, Candice? Did your phone ring? One of the cool girls—you daren’t ignore it.”

  She shook her head, her eyes brimming with tears.

  “You stepped out, not meaning to be gone for long, just to take the call, but when you came back, Joey was dead.”

  Tears had begun rolling down the younger woman’s face, and her mouth hung open like that of a stroke victim.

  “Tell me. Be honest, it must’ve nearly killed you to keep it to yourself all this time.”

  She shook her head, her mouth opening and closing as though the words just wouldn’t form.

  I got to my feet and held my arms out for her and she rushed into them, sobbing into my chest.

  “There, there. It’ll be alright. It was an accident—everyone will see that.”

  She suddenly shoved me, causing me to lose my balance and topple over the chair I’d been sitting on.

  “You can’t tell anyone!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. “You can’t! You can’t tell anyone.”

  “Candice, of course I must. Lydia has the right to know she didn’t kill her baby. She’s innocent.”

  “No! She was drunk—she ran the bath! I was just a kid—she should have been looking after us.”

  “Okay, maybe she wasn’t totally innocent. But she didn’t put Joseph in the bath. You did that. And she’s torturing herself every single day.” I scrambled to my feet, wary of approaching her again, and took the phone from my jeans pocket.

  “I’ll just call James—he’ll know what to do.” I hit the redial button and James answered on the first ring.

  “Hi gorgeous, how did you get on?”

  “Hey?”

  “With the nursery. How did it go?”

  “Fine, I’ll tell you later. Listen, I need you to come home right away. I discovered something about baby Joey.”

  White hot pain suddenly came from nowhere and I found myself flying forwards, landing awkwardly on my arm. The phone skittered across the carpet.

  Candice’s face swam into view just before the darkness took hold.

  Chapter 31

  Lydia chatted excitedly, all the way to the cottage. Lee just smiled and nodded, wanting to yell at her to ‘shut the fuck up,’ but he couldn’t. She’d suss him out immediately.

  Yesterday, the doctor had dressed her arm and prescribed antibiotics as well as diazepam to calm her down whenever she felt she couldn’t cope. He knew she’d taken a dose before leaving home, and the change in her already was astonishing.

  Upon arriving in the village, he stopped at the corner shop to grab a carton of milk. Lydia, buzzing with a newfound sense of freedom and confidence, insisted on going in with him. On the way out, they bumped into Chinese Eric.

  “Hello. Long time, no see,” he said. It actually came out as ‘Hewwo. Wong time, no see’.

  Lydia sniggered and covered her mouth.

  “Oh, hi, Eric. This is Lydia, my wife.”

  “I heard lot ‘bout you.” They shook hands. “You move in already?”

  “No, in fact, we’ve decided not to bother. We are going to put the cottage on the market.”

  “I heard ‘bout your friend—the girl—she die.”

  Lee’s blood turned to ice. “She wasn’t my friend. I’ve never seen her before.”

  “Oh, sorry. Made mistake. Thought she got in your car in rain.”

  “Not my car, pal.” He bristled. “Oh, well, we’d best get on. Nice to see you again, Eric.”

  “Penny for them,” he asked Lydia as they got back in the car.

  “Just funny that he thought you knew that girl. You would tell me if there was anything...”

  “Of course I would,” he cut in. “He’s mista
ken. That’s all. Are you ready to see the cottage, or what?” He drove the few hundred metres along the road and pulled up outside.

  “Is this the one?”

  He nodded.

  “It’s gorgeous. I always wanted a stone cottage.”

  “I know. That’s why I bought it in the first place.”

  She reached for his hand. “Are you still feeling weird?”

  He gripped her fingers and nodded. “I know it’s stupid, but I don’t think I can do this.”

  “You can. We can. And besides, the estate agent will be here in half an hour, and we need to air the cottage out before he gets here.”

  They got out of the car, and Lydia took the keys from him and began fiddling with the front door lock.

  “It’s a bit temperamental. You need to hang onto the handle and pull the door towards you as you turn the key.”

  Lydia tried again and still couldn’t budge it so Lee took over. “There we go,” he said, as the door swung inwards.

  She was like a kid in an amusement arcade, running from room to room, oohing and aahing.

  Lee stayed at the front door, terrified to set even one foot inside.

  “Mr Barnes?”

  Lee almost shot out of his skin.

  A man in a suit stood behind him holding a briefcase. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said. “I’m Peter Brand, from Brand New Homes.”

  “Oh, hi. I didn’t see you pull up.”

  Lydia ran down the stairs. “I’m sorry, Lee. I forgot to wait for you.” She beckoned for him to enter.

  “Lydia, this is Peter, the estate agent.”

  “Oh, hi. Come on in,” she said.

  “Lydia will show you through, if that’s okay. If you need to know anything you can ask me afterwards.” He turned back to Lydia. “Sorry, Lyddie, I’ll wait in the car.”

  With that, he took off before she had the chance to argue.

  He couldn’t believe how affected he felt. His heart raced and stomach contracted. He wiped his sweaty hands on his trouser legs and climbed back behind the wheel.

  Lydia and the suit were back out inside of ten minutes. Lee wound the window down.

  “It’s a lovely property, Mr Barnes, but I was just telling your wife that it would benefit from the renovations being completed—you’d be able to ask for a premium price that way. As it stands, you will lose a substantial amount, but it’s still sellable. In fact, I know a number of investors that will snatch your arm off for the right price.”