Pauline Rowson - In for the Kill

Could I trust the words of a senile old lady when she said that she’d seen someone push Olivia down the stairs? Her daughter didn’t believe her, but then her daughter clearly didn’t believe in my innocence. Not that I should blame her for that. She didn’t know me. I did blame her though.

I finished my coffee and headed for the Directory of Directors on the assumption that Westnam might have got another directorship. I spent the next hour trawling my way online through that and various other directories trying to locate Westnam. He wasn’t listed as a company director anywhere. That didn’t mean to say he didn’t have his own business, it just wasn’t a limited company. He could, of course, be operating as a sole trader or partner. He could have gone abroad to live and work.

With irritation I left the library and went to sit in Victoria Park for a few minutes. The breeze was a little on the fresh side but the shining sun, and the luxury of freedom, more than compensated for that. The trees were unfurling tiny fresh green leaves, and the tulips were splendid in their bright yellow and soldier redcoats. How could I find Westnam? I was convinced he could give me the key to all this.

Yet if I discovered why Andover had blackmailed him how would that help me? Oh, I could tell the police, but if Westnam didn’t know who Andover was, the police would only think that Andover was me, so back to square one. No, I was looking at this the wrong way round. Why had Andover chosen me? That was the question that needed answering.

I could hear the trains screeching across the bridge into Portsmouth station. What if Andover’s vendetta against me had been personal though? I thought of my mother and Ruby’s words. Had my mother known Andover? Was he a friend of the family, a relative even? There was someone who might know.

I glanced at my watch. It was 4.15pm. Before I could change my mind I was heading for the railway station. The London Waterloo train was just pulling in as I stepped onto the platform.

Without hesitation I climbed on board and twenty-eight minutes later I was alighting at Petersfield. A brisk walk through the small, but rapidly developing Hampshire market town and I was crossing the park, skirting the lake.

Opposite me now was a large detached modern house set back from the road. I stood for some time gazing up at it trying to stifle the resentment inside me. I didn’t succeed. I squared my shoulders and sallied forth.

CHAPTER 6

‘ What do you want, Alex?’ Vanessa’s shock at seeing me on her doorstep swiftly gave way to wariness.

She had hardly changed in three years. If anything she looked more attractive, more self-assured than I remembered. I could still see her face during those long days and weeks of my trial as her concern had begun to turn to suspicion.

Her expression would haunt and hurt me forever. Then at my mother’s funeral she had looked pale and tired. Now her dark curtain of hair was sleek and shining, framing an elfin face as yet unsullied by lines even though she was approaching forty-three. She was slender and I’d forgotten quite how small she was. Always a tidy dresser I could tell her stylish trousers and blouse were expensive. Her appearance and this house confirmed my view that Gus Newberry, her new husband, was doing all right for himself, though at what, I had no idea.

‘I want to talk,’ I said I hoped evenly, though my stomach was churning. I didn’t think I still loved her, but there was something tugging at my heart.

‘I’m not sure we’ve got anything to say to each other.’

‘On the contrary we’ve got a great deal to say.

How are my sons?’ I hadn’t intended demanding to see them, but as the train had sped through the countryside, my heart had beat faster at the thought that I might do so. Vanessa’s rather frosty reception was only serving to make me more bloody-minded.

‘You can’t see them. You know what the court said.’

My stomach clenched. Damn Andover to hell and back.

‘Besides they’re not here,’ she quickly added, after seeing my angry expression. ‘David is at his fencing class and Philip’s at football practice. I’ll need to pick them up soon.’ She dashed a glance at her watch.

I tried to hide my disappointment. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me in or is only the doorstep good enough for a man you once said you loved.’

I saw a flash of anger in her hazel eyes. Then she shrugged and turned away leaving me to close the door and follow her down the hall into a spacious kitchen enlarged by a beautifully designed glass extension. I felt envy and bitterness.

There were schoolbooks on the table including Shakespeare’s Othello . I recalled my English studies at university – what had the great man said about losing one’s reputation? Something about it making a man bestial. Maybe he was right because I wanted to smash this fucking perfect room to pieces except for the studio photograph of David and Philip on the wall beside a huge framed genealogy chart, bearing Gus Newberry’s name. I felt so sad and sick with regret that I could hardly breathe. My heart was heavy and my arms ached to hold my sons. I would get the bastard who had stitched me up and nail his balls to the wall. I’d find a way to make him suffer as I had suffered, and if I died doing it then so be it. Yes, Shakespeare was right, losing your reputation did make you bestial.

‘Have you told them I’m out of prison?’

‘Alex. I…’ She pushed her hand through her hair, her expression reflecting her anguish. ‘You do understand. I need to prepare them.’

‘For what? The demon father, the ex-convict. I suppose you and Gus have made me out to be a cross between the Kray brothers and Ronnie Biggs.’

‘There’s no need to be so bitter.’

‘Isn’t there? How would you like to have almost four years of your life taken from you?

To lose everything you valued, including the people you loved.’

‘I’ve suffered too.’

‘Oh, yes, it looks like it. Vanessa, have you any idea of what it’s like to be locked in a room you can’t break out of? To experience the complete loss of control over your own destiny, knowing there is no escape and that you just have to wait. And all that time you know that you shouldn’t be there, that you are innocent. Only no one believes you.’

‘What do you want, Alex?’ she demanded.

I guessed her guilt was making her angry, because she hadn’t and probably still didn’t believe in my innocence. I watched her gather up the exercise books and place them on top of a cabinet at the side of the room. I took a deep breath and told myself to get a grip. I needed information and this wasn’t the way to get it. In prison I had dreamt of the day when I would see her again, rehearsing what I would say; it would veer from pleading with her to believe in my innocence, to berating her for her callousness in deserting me, now all those words were useless.

‘I haven’t come here to argue with you, or score points,’ I begun.

‘No!’ She spun round her cheeks flushed with anger. Her eyes flashing.

‘I’ve come for information.’ And the hope of seeing my sons, I said to myself.

Her anger gave way to bafflement, then suspicion. ‘About what?’

I guessed she thought I was going to ask about Gus. ‘About my mother.’

‘Oh!’

‘Was there any indication that she might have been pushed down the stairs?’

She looked surprised. ‘No. Why, should there be? There was a loose stair rod, the carpet had come away, her slipper caught it and she fell.’

‘Did she ever say anything to you before she died, about being worried or frightened?’ I could see my question confused her.

‘What is this, Alex?’