Read Online Snapped in Cornwall by Janie Bolitho - Free Book Online
Authors: Janie Bolitho
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out at sand dunes and gorse. You can just see the sea in the distance. And the extra bedrooms when Gabrielle made it clear she didn’t want people coming down from London all the time. God, listen to me. I didn’t mean to criticise.’
‘Perhaps it was the space she wanted.’ Rose meant mentally as well as physically. She could understand it. When she had to spend a couple of days in London the first thing she did upon her return was to walk. She’d take a cliff path and surround herself with sea and sky and breathe in the clean air.
Dennis bowed his head. ‘I loved her, you know. Despite everything, I really loved that woman. And now I shall have to sell the house that she loved.’
Rose braced herself. Had Dennis been drinking? Surely two glasses of mediocre wine was not enough to make him maudlin. She recognised the difference between that and genuine grief. Grief, she knew, had no time for sentimentality. Grief was hard and sharp, the pain almost physical. It was tempered with cleansing anger.
Dennis, she suspected, was working himself up to making a confession and she would put money on her assumption that he was having an affair.
‘I didn’t know many of the guests, they were mostly people Gabrielle had met, but I feel responsible somehow, for putting them through this, all these questions. God, what a mess.’ Dennis shook his head. ‘Look, I’ve taken up enough of your time already. I really must go.’ He placed his empty glass on the table and stood. ‘Thank you, Rose, for listening. I won’t bother you again.’
She saw him to the door and watched as he pulled away, his headlights sweeping through the darkness until the car had disappeared.
Rose put the steak under the grill and wondered if it had been an act, if Dennis Milton had killed his wife and was trying to put himself in a good light with people. Her natural curiosity made her want to find out more about the Miltons. Something, definitely, was not quite right.
Maggie Anderson had provided the police with her home address and that of her place of work. Like Anna, after endless questions, she had been allowed to return to London. She had explained that she had known Dennis for about eighteen months, which was true, that they had met through businessand that her being at the party was probably to redress the balance. Almost everyone else was a friend of Gabrielle’s.
‘It’s over,’ Maggie told herself when she boarded the train on Sunday evening. She had not had to lie but she had omitted many points. If they checked, the police would discover that Dennis’s company was once a client of the advertising agency for whom she worked. And they would check, she was sure.
The train swayed through the darkness, stopping at all the stations until it reached Plymouth. Leaving Cornwall behind, she sighed with relief.
Saturday night had been spent under Dennis’s roof, as had been the case with several of the guests. By the time the police had finished with them it was too late to go to bed and no one felt like sleeping. Maggie, along with two couples she did not know, remained in the lounge, resting as best they could on the settees. She had reserved a room in a hotel although she had hoped she would be invited to spend the night – not that Dennis would have issued the invitation. The matter was taken out of her hands.
It was hard to feel sorry for Gabrielle. The obstacle to Maggie’s plans had now been removed.
Analysing her feelings, Maggie knew she was not in love with Dennis but he represented everything she wanted from life. He had money and power and knew how to use them although he had been unaware of her manipulation of the situation. Inexpensive restaurants had been chosen with care, the better to show herself in contrast to what she imagined was Gabrielle’s extravagance. Gabrielle’s contentment with books and her renewed enthusiasm for broadening her mind were not known to Maggie. But Dennis refused to discuss his wife
‘Perhaps it was the space she wanted.’ Rose meant mentally as well as physically. She could understand it. When she had to spend a couple of days in London the first thing she did upon her return was to walk. She’d take a cliff path and surround herself with sea and sky and breathe in the clean air.
Dennis bowed his head. ‘I loved her, you know. Despite everything, I really loved that woman. And now I shall have to sell the house that she loved.’
Rose braced herself. Had Dennis been drinking? Surely two glasses of mediocre wine was not enough to make him maudlin. She recognised the difference between that and genuine grief. Grief, she knew, had no time for sentimentality. Grief was hard and sharp, the pain almost physical. It was tempered with cleansing anger.
Dennis, she suspected, was working himself up to making a confession and she would put money on her assumption that he was having an affair.
‘I didn’t know many of the guests, they were mostly people Gabrielle had met, but I feel responsible somehow, for putting them through this, all these questions. God, what a mess.’ Dennis shook his head. ‘Look, I’ve taken up enough of your time already. I really must go.’ He placed his empty glass on the table and stood. ‘Thank you, Rose, for listening. I won’t bother you again.’
She saw him to the door and watched as he pulled away, his headlights sweeping through the darkness until the car had disappeared.
Rose put the steak under the grill and wondered if it had been an act, if Dennis Milton had killed his wife and was trying to put himself in a good light with people. Her natural curiosity made her want to find out more about the Miltons. Something, definitely, was not quite right.
Maggie Anderson had provided the police with her home address and that of her place of work. Like Anna, after endless questions, she had been allowed to return to London. She had explained that she had known Dennis for about eighteen months, which was true, that they had met through businessand that her being at the party was probably to redress the balance. Almost everyone else was a friend of Gabrielle’s.
‘It’s over,’ Maggie told herself when she boarded the train on Sunday evening. She had not had to lie but she had omitted many points. If they checked, the police would discover that Dennis’s company was once a client of the advertising agency for whom she worked. And they would check, she was sure.
The train swayed through the darkness, stopping at all the stations until it reached Plymouth. Leaving Cornwall behind, she sighed with relief.
Saturday night had been spent under Dennis’s roof, as had been the case with several of the guests. By the time the police had finished with them it was too late to go to bed and no one felt like sleeping. Maggie, along with two couples she did not know, remained in the lounge, resting as best they could on the settees. She had reserved a room in a hotel although she had hoped she would be invited to spend the night – not that Dennis would have issued the invitation. The matter was taken out of her hands.
It was hard to feel sorry for Gabrielle. The obstacle to Maggie’s plans had now been removed.
Analysing her feelings, Maggie knew she was not in love with Dennis but he represented everything she wanted from life. He had money and power and knew how to use them although he had been unaware of her manipulation of the situation. Inexpensive restaurants had been chosen with care, the better to show herself in contrast to what she imagined was Gabrielle’s extravagance. Gabrielle’s contentment with books and her renewed enthusiasm for broadening her mind were not known to Maggie. But Dennis refused to discuss his wife
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