Page 65 of A Perfect Devon Pub
‘Mummy said you weren’t coming to see us anymore, and she said it was something bad you’d done, but I knew she was fibbing ‘cos you wouldn’t do bad things.’ Becky threw her arms around Fiona’s thighs and spoke the last words into Fiona’s coat. ‘It’s just Timmy and me who do naughty things.’ Her mother spoke hurriedly into the receiver, ‘All booked, sir. We look forward to welcoming you.’ Rose placed the phone gently back on the cradle and barked, ‘Becky, run along upstairs to Granny now, please.’
‘Can Fiona come with me?’
‘No,’ said Rose softly. ‘We need some grown-up time.’
The child groaned, gave Fiona’s legs a last squeeze, then chirped, ‘Come and see us again soon, Fiona. We love you.’ Fiona’s heart skipped a beat. She couldn’t think of anything she had done to deserve Becky’s adulation, but she was grateful for the child’s love, given so freely, and thankful, too, that Rose had not poisoned it. Maybe there was still a chance to regain Rose’strust.
Rose watched her daughter disappearing up the stairs before speaking. ‘I’m surprised to see you here.’
It wasn’t a reassuring line, and Fiona felt her confidence crumble like a sandcastle hit by a wave. ‘I’d like a word, please. In private.’ Rose scratched her head, then tutted. ‘Let’s do this in the staffroom.’
Marvellous, thought Fiona, just mentioning that room sent a chill through her, but she followed her former boss, mentally running through her speech. Closing the door, Rose took hold of a chairback. ‘Have you come to repay the money?’
That hurt. No pretence that she had second thoughts about Fiona’s guilt. Abandoning her carefully rehearsed script, Fiona fought back. ‘No, because I didn’t steal anything.’
Rose spluttered, shaking her head.
‘I amnota thief.’
Rose drummed her fingers on the chairback, huffed a sigh and without looking at Fiona, said, ‘Just go, and expect a call from the police.’
Her voice sounding desperate, Fiona struggled on. ‘Please, let me speak.’
‘I think you’ve said enough,’ Rose raised her head, glaring at Fiona, a mixture of disappointment and anger in her eyes. ‘You knew that wine was our nest egg. We helped you. I trusted you, let you into our family. Now look at how you’ve repaid that kindness.’
‘Rose, I promise you—’
‘Stop. If that bottle of Champagne wasn’t enough to convince me of your guilt, the next morning—’
Fiona swallowed. What was Rose about to say? Her mind raced as she struggled to keep her face calm, but her pulse betrayed her, quickening with every second that passed. By her side, she clenched her fists, willing herself not to flinch.Moreproof? Impossible. She had done nothing. But the look in Rose’s eyes told her that her innocence might be irrelevant.
Fiona forced herself to meet Rose’s gaze and an icy wave of dread washed over her. ‘You’ve forgotten what you did, haven’t you? For someone usually so meticulous, you’ve been quite careless. I was too upset that night to think straight. I left the bottle of Krug in here – after all, I’d found the thief, I knew it would be safe.’ Rose’s eyes narrowed, then she added, ‘In the morning when I came to fetch the Champagne—’
Fiona interrupted. ‘I wasn’t here in the morning.’ Fiona had been nowhere near Devon that day. Fiona had been on her way to London. To fail that exam. She dug her hands into her coat pockets, sensing a flicker of hope as she clutched the battered train tickets, her fingers pressing into the paper. She had an alibi. Proof. Her voice trembled with a mixture of relief and defiance. ‘What is it I’m supposed to have done?’
Rose pulled a yellow sticky tab from her pocket. ‘This,’ she said bitterly.
Fiona’s mouth felt so dry it was like sandpaper rubbing against itself. Her voice cracking, she asked, ‘What is that?’
‘Don’t play the innocent with me. These are the contact details for two top London wine merchants. You left it stuck to the bottle of Champagne.’ Rose’s tone switched to sarcastic. ‘They knew who you were. Oh, they both denied you’d been in touch with them in the last few months, but they would, wouldn’t they.’
Fiona felt her temples throbbing. More damning evidence. What Rose had in her hands must be the Post-it note with the contact details Fiona had written down for Ru; Kim must have found it when she’d planted the Champagne in Fiona’s coat pocket. That ghastly night there had been nothing attached to the bottle of Krug. Fiona would have seen it. Kim must have spotted an opportunity later that evening to attach the incriminating note to the bottle.
‘You are so wrong, Rose.’ She said, her voice wavering. Fiona rushed out of the staffroom, wanting to sprint outside, to feel the cool of the autumn evening wind smart her face, but her eyes were drawn to a couple.
His back was towards her, a well-built frame and a rush of familiarity washed over her – the way he held himself, the curve of his shoulders, and the distinct style of his hair. Her heart skipped a beat. Ru. The woman had her hand on his arm, and glanced over her shoulder, her eyes shining with the unmistakable lustre of newfound love.
Kim.
Jealousy surged and Fiona bolted for the back door.
Twenty-nine
Fiona sprinted down the steps and bumped into a motorcyclist encased in shiny black leather.
The man spoke in a cheerful voice, at odds with Fiona’s emotions. ‘Hey careful there.’
‘Sorry,’ she mumbled. The man wasn’t responsible for her imploding life. Although desperate to get away, something in the man’s demeanour halted her. He was unassuming at first glance, perhaps in his late twenties, with tousled brown hair that fell over his forehead and an earnest look in his blue eyes. Yet, beneath that disarming exterior was an air of secrecy, a tension that belied his amiable smile. He shifted his weight from one foot to another, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting someone to emerge from the shadows.
