Page 67 of The Vow
‘That’s so brilliant. Thank you so much …’ I glance down as another text from Rik flashes up on my phone.Can I help?I think quickly. Rik is a geek. I should have thought about it before. Quickly I start typing.Any dirt on Fiona Rose, a Brighton lawyer, or info on what really happened to Kimberley Preston. xxx.Then as an afterthought adding,any dirt on Matthew Roche would be a bonus.
Pressing send, a bubble of hearts float up the screen of my phone, then I turn back to my laptop.
*
I spend the following day finding out everything I can about Fiona Rose, when I google her, finding out there are many. But as I whittle them down by location, I find one listed as a partner at Hollis and James, a law firm, which fits with herambition to become respected and credible. It mentions her previous position at a firm in Cobham, Surrey, called Dentons. But not a whole lot more than that. Studying the headshot of her, estimating her at around my mother’s age, I take in coolly appraising eyes, a posture that suggests confidence, feeling my heart sink. Pitched against my mother, it’s easy to imagine who the police would find more plausible.
Scrutinising her social media, I search for her parents, but in every visible aspect of her life, there is no sign of them or any other family members, as my mother’s words come back to me.Allie’s parents sent her away, then they disowned her.
Sighing, I try to imagine what that must have felt like. When her parents found out she’d been involved in Kimberley’s death, I wonder if they ever forgave her. And if they didn’t, what that could do to a person. As a teenager – then later, as an adult, carrying all that unresolved anger and bitterness. It would seriously screw someone up, to the point that if you were bitter and twisted enough, you’d stoop to anything to get revenge.
Maybe that’s what this is about. Revenge.
At last, I receive a message from Mandy.Thank you for your message, Jess. All I can tell you about Matt is to never believe a single word he says about anything. He’s the worst kind of liar – insidious, yet utterly believable. Nothing he does is without a self-serving motive. To be honest, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone had tried to kill him. There isn’t much more I can add. But I do hope you find the evidence you’re looking for.
After I read the message, I keep it to forward to PC Page. And Mandy’s right about needing to find evidence. Turning back to my laptop, I think about what I definitely know. I have my mother’s account of Kimberley’s death, and about what happened to her and Allie/Fiona after. Then Charlie. Then Iremember my mother’s words.So many deaths … Kimberley, Charlie, my parents …Thenpoor Charlie Brooks …
Suddenly my heart is racing. What about Charlie’s parents? Might they have been seeking some kind of retribution for their son’s death, even this many years on? I know enough about revenge to understand that it’s one of our deepest instincts. I try to imagine how it must have felt, seeing their son’s body hanging from our apple tree, as powerful emotions take over. The sorrow, empathy, regret, my mother must have felt. Not only had she lost Kimberley, she’d been faced with another death.
Frowning at my screen, I wonder where Charlie’s parents live now.Charlie Brooks. Death. 1996. Steyning.I type the words into the search bar, then start scrolling down the list of links. A couple of news items I haven’t seen before have come up, one of them mentioning Charlie’s father, Harold Brooks, a well-known local businessman.
After typingHarold Brooks Steyninginto the search bar, a photo comes up. It’s black and white, grainy, alongside a piece about the growing success of his health foods business.
Clicking on the next link, there’s a photo of the shopfront, on Steyning High Street. It’s no longer there, but when I read the following link dated 1997, it describes how the business was sold after a family tragedy.
Which can only have been Charlie’s death.Absorbed, I keep reading article after article, then I stumble across another photo. But this one isn’t just of Harold. Instead, he’s with his family – his glamorous wife, their two teenage boys standing in front of them. I study the taller one, recognising him as Charlie, then my eyes turn to the younger boy. Until now, there’d been no mention that Charlie had a brother. Zooming in on him, I stare, as shock hits me.
*
After telling Cath what I’ve found out, I call the police. When they arrive, I show PC Page what I’ve found. ‘I think Matt is Charlie’s younger brother. I was looking online into Charlie’s family and I found a photo of the family together. I know he was much younger, but it would explain everything wouldn’t it? If Matt held my mother responsible for his brother’s death – and why he’d want revenge.’ I show her the photo. ‘Look at his father. There’s a real likeness.’
She studies it carefully. ‘So you think Matthew Roche is really Matthew Brooks? If it is and he’s changed his name, there will be records. We need to look more into this, but if you’re right, it does suggest a motive.’ She pauses. ‘But it doesn’t explain why he would have waited for so long. And it still doesn’t tell us what’s happened to him.’
When I’d been hoping for so much more, her response disappoints me. ‘It’s him alright. And if I know Matt, he’ll be hiding out, enjoying every minute of this,’ I say bitterly.
PC Page glances at me. ‘We’ll definitely look into this, Jess. If you’re right, I’ll let you know.’
‘Oh.’ I’ve almost forgotten to tell her. ‘There’s something else. I had a reply from Mandy. I think you should read it.’ Getting my phone, I bring up the message to show her, passing her my phone.
Her face is grave as she reads it. ‘Can you forward it to me?’
*
When she leaves, I’m filled with frustration that what I’ve found isn’t enough to clear my mother. Still needing to find concrete evidence of her innocence, by mid-afternoon, it seems like my only option is to go back to the house. Not wanting to go alone, I try to find Cath. But I only see Zoe, in the kitchen, sitting at her laptop. ‘I was hoping to go back to the house. Do you know where Cath is?’
Zoe’s eyes search my face. ‘She popped out a little while ago. She didn’t say when she’d be back. Why don’t you call her?’
I shake my head. ‘Don’t worry.’ I don’t want to put her out any more than I already have. ‘I’ll get a bus.’
Zoe hesitates. ‘Are you sure this is a good idea? I really don’t mind driving you.’
Not wanting to feel pressured by time, I turn her down. ‘Thanks. But I’ll get the bus. I’m not sure how long I’m going to be.’
‘OK …’ Zoe sounds reluctant. ‘If you’re sure? But I’ll tell Cath what you’re doing. I expect she’ll want to come and join you.’
Pulling on my jacket, as I step outside, under the shade of the trees that line the road, the air is cool. Pausing for a moment, I zip my phone into a pocket, before I turn and start walking in the direction of the seafront. It’s a typical February day – grey, the breeze cold where it catches me, clouds scudding across the sky. As I walk, I try to think what the missing pieces of this jigsaw are, knowing the person I need to talk to is Fiona.
Reaching the seafront, I cross over and stand there, gazing at the green-grey waves rolling towards the shore, turning to white foam as they crash onto the shingle. On impulse, I get out my phone and search for a number for Hollis and James, the firm Fiona works for. When I call them, someone answers straight away.
