‘That was you?’
‘I was going to be Cindy Reller.’ I smile. ‘As in Cinderella, she of the Wicked Stepmother. Then I decided that sounded too made-up. I did turn up for the appointment, by the way. Got as far as walking up to the building, but then something happened that threw me and made me think I wasn’t ready to talk to you after all. I had to go home and think it through.’
Olly’s eyes flit around the room; he’s trying to piece it together.
‘Ask me what happened to throw me off course,’ I say. ‘I know you’re wondering. Shall I tell you? That manhappened. Same one I’ve just described: I saw him here, two weeks ago. I was about to open the front door and walk in when he came striding out. He didn’t recognise me, I don’t think, but I knew him instantly. I’d only seen him once before, but it was a memorable once because of the circumstances. It was definitely the same man, though he was quite a bit older.’
‘Where had you seen him before?’ asks Olly. ‘And when? “More than ten years ago”, you said.’
‘Who is he, Olly? You recognised him instantly from my description. I saw it in your face.’
‘Where did you see him, the first time?’
If I tell him, will he then answer my questions? Probably not, but if I don’t try … ‘Walking through the grounds at Dad and Marianne’s,’ I say. ‘Looked as if he was coming from the house, heading for the road. It was late afternoon and pretty dark already, and it certainly wasn’t more than a year after you and I broke up. Funny thing is …’
I can hear Olly’s breathing from across the room. He’s impatient to know what’s coming next.
‘I got back two hours earlier than I’d told Marianne I’d be back. Dad was out. She does like her secret meetings when she thinks she’s got the house to herself, doesn’t she? First you, now this mysterious man. Mysterious to me, that is – you’re not mystified, because you know his name and you know what he was doing there that day. Don’t you? And now you’re going to tell me.’
I adjust my position, hoping to make it clear that I’m settling in, staying right here in this chair until I get the answers I came for. ‘Marianne lied when I asked her. Said he was a landscape gardener, there to give a quote for some work that never happened – what a surprise. Ibelieved her, though, until I saw the same man walk out of this building two weeks ago.’
Olly is staring down at his desk.
‘Who is he, Olly? Whatever the secret is that you and Marianne are keeping, he’s involved, isn’t he?’ I wait a few more silent seconds, then say, ‘I think his first name is Oliver. I think he might be the person who cut Marianne’s throat in 2012 and left her for dead.’
‘He isn’t.’ Olly sounds angry. ‘Jemma, I’m begging you to drop this. Do you think I don’t want to tell you?’ His voice cracks. ‘I’d love nothing more, but I can’t. Look, Marianne’s alive, isn’t she? The person who tried to kill her failed. They won’t try again: that I can promise you.’
‘You promised not to lie to me any more,’ I remind him.
‘And I’m not. Keeping a secret is different from telling a lie. The man you saw … his name isn’t Oliver. His name is Mark.’
This sounds so familiar.Mark. Mark …
‘His middle name’s more unusual,’ says Olly. ‘Rowan.’
Mark Rowan …
A shiver passes through me. Oh, my God …
‘I can see you don’t need me to provide a surname,’ Olly says. ‘You remember.’
I do. And I understand even less than I did before.
20
Wednesday 1 November 2023, 11.05 a.m.
SIMON
‘So you’re saying me and Jemma could be done for conspiracy to commit murder and … whatever the other thing was you said?’
‘Soliciting to murder. Yes,’ said Simon.
‘Even though we never did anything?’
Tom Tulloch looked as alarmed as he deserved to be, Simon thought. The two of them were at Tulloch’s brother’s house in Little Holling, in a grim sitting room with a gas fire turned up too high and windows that looked as if no one had opened them for years.
The brother, Lucas, had gone out and left them to it.
