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Authors: Pauline Rowson
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slab? Had Andover killed him? Darren could identify him.
Should I tell the police? They might be able to trace Andover. Even if I did tell them anonymously, it was still too risky. The warehousemen, Darren’s mother and that barman would be able to say that I had come asking questions. DCI Crowder already believed I was Andover. I didn’t think he would need much persuading that I had lifted my file from the warehouse and killed Darren.
My thoughts had taken me to the central library in Guildhall Square. It was a large three-storey building with a café on the top, and would have many more resources than my small local library in Bembridge, and whilst I was here I thought I might as well continue my research. I had to find Westnam. He was the only one left. I just hoped and prayed he was still alive, and that he hadn’t left the country.
The Guildhall clock chimed three as I climbed the steps and it was only then that I realised I was hungry. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. I grabbed a sandwich and a cup of coffee in the café. It was quiet and apart from myself there was only one elderly couple and a young woman who was dressed in a rather eccentric and eclectic range of clothing. She made me think of my neighbour, Scarlett and her mother. I didn’t recall Ruby Kingston as one of my mother’s friends.
But then why should I? I had left the Island years ago, firstly to attend university in Sheffield, and then to work in London before meeting Vanessa and moving to the Hamble. After the boys were born we had returned to the Island as a family to spend August and Christmas there with my mother. Olivia had had an entirely separate life from my own, and one I suddenly realised I knew little about. I wriggled a little uncomfortably at the memory of my selfishness. I had been so full of my own self-importance. I should have taken more interest. I should have been more caring.
With a sip of my rapidly cooling coffee, I thought I should have told Olivia I loved her. Now it was too late.
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
Should I tell the police? They might be able to trace Andover. Even if I did tell them anonymously, it was still too risky. The warehousemen, Darren’s mother and that barman would be able to say that I had come asking questions. DCI Crowder already believed I was Andover. I didn’t think he would need much persuading that I had lifted my file from the warehouse and killed Darren.
My thoughts had taken me to the central library in Guildhall Square. It was a large three-storey building with a café on the top, and would have many more resources than my small local library in Bembridge, and whilst I was here I thought I might as well continue my research. I had to find Westnam. He was the only one left. I just hoped and prayed he was still alive, and that he hadn’t left the country.
The Guildhall clock chimed three as I climbed the steps and it was only then that I realised I was hungry. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. I grabbed a sandwich and a cup of coffee in the café. It was quiet and apart from myself there was only one elderly couple and a young woman who was dressed in a rather eccentric and eclectic range of clothing. She made me think of my neighbour, Scarlett and her mother. I didn’t recall Ruby Kingston as one of my mother’s friends.
But then why should I? I had left the Island years ago, firstly to attend university in Sheffield, and then to work in London before meeting Vanessa and moving to the Hamble. After the boys were born we had returned to the Island as a family to spend August and Christmas there with my mother. Olivia had had an entirely separate life from my own, and one I suddenly realised I knew little about. I wriggled a little uncomfortably at the memory of my selfishness. I had been so full of my own self-importance. I should have taken more interest. I should have been more caring.
With a sip of my rapidly cooling coffee, I thought I should have told Olivia I loved her. Now it was too late.
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
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