Death on the Downs

Fifteen

“The bones weren’t Tamsin Lutteridge’s!” Carole and Jude spoke the words simultaneously.

Baylis had gone and Carole had hurried to answer the doorbell’s summons, hoping it was Jude. She was dying to share her news. And amazed that Jude had the same news to impart.

“What do you mean? Come in. It’s cold.”

“What do you mean? How do you know it’s not Tamsin?”

“Justfhad Detective Sergeant Baylis round. Can I get you a coffee?”

“No, thanks.”

They went through into the sitting room and Carole quickly brought her friend up to date with what Baylis had said about the bones. “I should have realized at the time. When I think about it, the bones looked old. Older than four months, anyway.”

“You weren’t to know. You’re not a pathologist. And there are all kinds of factors that can affect how quickly a body decomposes…whether it’s left in water…if scavengers can get at it…”

“Maybe. I still think I should have known.” Carole had never enjoyed looking stupid – or, perhaps more accurately, thinking she looked stupid. “Anyway, Jude, how did you find out they weren’t Tamsin’s bones.”

“Because I’m pretty certain Tamsin’s still alive.” And she gave an edited version of her morning’s visit to Sandalls Manor.

“Do you think she’s being kept there against her will?”

“No, I’m sure her stay is entirely voluntary.”

“But you hear of these cases of young women getting caught up in cults…You know, falling under the spell of some guru and – ”

“Carole!” Jude sounded uncharacteristically annoyed. “This is nothing to do with a cult. It makes me really angry when people lump every alternative lifestyle in together. We’re not talking about some crazed religious zealot here; we’re talking about a psychotherapist with legitimate qualifications.”

“But from your tone of voice, it doesn’t sound as though you like him very much.”

“I may not like him, and I may not like some of the things he does, but that doesn’t stop me respecting him as a healer. Charles Hilton has had a great deal of success with bringing people back to health, both emotional and physical.”

Carole suspected that her friend was protesting a little too much in her respect for the therapist, but she didn’t mention it. “If Tamsin is up at Sandalls Manor, undergoing legitimate treatment, then why did he deny she was there?”

“Maybe he was respecting her wishes. If a patient asks for confidentiality, it’s a therapist’s duty to provide it.”

“But she’s only a child. And her parents are so worried.”

“Tamsin’s twenty-four years old. Quite old enough to make her own decisions. And I think it’s only one of her parents who’s worried.” Jude stood up with sudden resolve. “Anyway, I’m about to find out.”

“Hm?”

“I’m going to pay another visit to Gillie Lutteridge.”

Jude accepted the offer of a lift up to Weldisham, but didn’t respond to the unspoken request for them to do the interview together. Carole knew she shouldn’t even have had the thought – Jude had Gillie Lutteridge’s trust and they had discussed Tamsin’s illness together – but, in spite of herself, Carole was getting excited about the case and didn’t want to be excluded from any part of the investigation. However, she didn’t raise the issue when she dropped Jude outside the Lutteridges’ irreproachable house.

“Give me an hour,” said Jude. She looked up at the sky. It was only four, but already nearly dark. “Don’t know what you’ll do.”

“It’s all right,” said Carole, unwilling to appear resource-less. “I’ve got time to make a quick raid on Sainsbury’s.”

“OK. Then we can maybe go to the pub and see where we’ve got to – if anywhere.”

“The Hare and Hounds?”

“I was thinking the Crown and Anchor.”

For some reason, Carole didn’t object to that idea.

Gillie Lutteridge looked once again as if the cellophane had just been removed from her package. This time she was wearing a burgundy chenille waistcoat over a cream silk shirt and black linen trousers, which, like every other pair she possessed, defied creasing. Flat black shoes with a little burgundy bow across the front.

Jude had phoned ahead, so she was expected. Before Gillie even had time to offer tea, she asked, “Have you heard from the police about the bones?”

“Yes. I think they must have known earlier that they couldn’t have been Tamsin’s. It can’t have been definite when Detective Sergeant Baylis came to see us, or he’d have said. But I suppose they didn’t know about the rumours in the village, so they had no idea what we’d been thinking.”

“Miles must have been very relieved.”

“He’s totally transformed. You cannot believe the difference between knowing your daughter’s missing and thinking that she’s dead. Now would you like some tea?”

Jude ignored the question and looked piercingly at Tamsin’s mother. “You, on the other hand, Gillie, don’t look totally transformed.”

“Sorry?”

“You look exactly the same as you did yesterday.”

“Yes. Well, one has to keep up some kind of front, however much one’s hurting inside.”

“What I’m saying, Gillie, is that I think you’ve known all along that Tamsin’s alive.”

The shock in Gillie Lutteridge’s face took a moment to establish itself. “How could I?”

“Easily, if you were in touch with her.” Before the denial could come, Jude pressed on. “I’ve been at Sandalls Manor this morning.”

“Ah.” The surrender was immediate. Gillie Lutteridge did not try to argue.

“By chance a letter in your handwriting arrived. Addressed to Tamsin.”

“Did you see her?” The question was full of maternal eagerness, desperate for any news of her daughter.

“Charles Hilton said she wasn’t there.”

Gillie nodded, partly resigned, partly relieved. “We’d agreed that. I was afraid that Miles might find out, and Tamsin…Well, she didn’t want anyone to know she was there either.”

“Because she was ashamed of her illness?”

“No. She just…she said she wanted to vanish off the face of the earth for a while.”

“That’s a rather strange thing to say.” Gillie shrugged. “You don’t think she meant she was suicidal?”

“No, Jude! Certainly not!” The girl’s mother was appalled by the suggestion. “Tamsin’s got a bit depressed while she’s been ill, but she’s never thought like that. All she wants to do is get better, so that she can get back to her normal life. She’d never do anything to harm herself…”

“Good. So Charles is curing her, is he?”

“I hope to God he is, yes. She’s having long sessions with him, and doing an exercise routine, and she’s on a special diet. She has been getting better.”

“Has she?”

“Yes. Last week she was much stronger. She even came here.”

“What did Miles say?”

“He was away on business. Otherwise she wouldn’t have come. Even then, she came in a taxi, after dark, so no one would see her. We just wanted to find out if she could cope.”

“And could she?”

The perfectly coiffed head drooped. “No. Next morning she had gone right back. She seemed worse than ever. No energy, terribly jumpy and depressed. She didn’t want to stay here a minute longer than necessary, went straight back to Sandalls Manor. That’s what’s so cruel about this wretched illness. Tamsin can go a day or two with hardly any symptoms at all, and then, just when she starts to make plans for the future, it comes back again.”

“But, in spite of that relapse, you still think Charles can cure her?”

“I’m praying that he can.” She read in Jude’s face a scepticism that wasn’t there. “We’ve tried everything else! We’ve tried doctor after doctor. Tamsin’s been in hospital for every test known to man. She’s been prescribed vitamin supplements, tonics, anti-depressant after anti-depressant. Nothing has made her any better. Nothing has brought back her energy. Charles Hilton offers an alternative possibility. I’d say it was worth trying.”

“Yes. Yes, of course it is. Presumably the course will take quite a long time?”

“Chronic fatigue syndrome is a complex illness. There are no quick fixes.”

“I know. But I dare say one-to-one therapy with Charles Hilton doesn’t come cheap.”

“I can afford it,” said Gillie defiantly. “I got some money of my own when my mother died.”

“Ah.” Jude nodded her blonde head. “I see.”

“See what?”

“You’re using money of your own. You and Tamsin have agreed to this cloak of secrecy so that Miles doesn’t find out.”

“Is that so odd? You’ve heard him on the subject of alternative therapists. Miles doesn’t even believe Tamsin’s illness exists. Just imagine what he’d make of someone like Charles Hilton.”

“Yes.” Jude understood completely. “But, Gillie…what I can’t understand…when the rumours in the village started about the bones being Tamsin’s…when you could see how much pain Miles was suffering…you could have set his mind at rest with just a few words…and you didn’t. You could have told him you knew that Tamsin was still alive.”

“But then he’d have wanted to know how I knew. He’d have tracked her down, and destroyed her last chance of getting better!”

“Are you sure he would, Gillie? Couldn’t you have talked to him about it?”

“No. I can’t talk to Miles. I can’t talk to Miles about anything.”

And, without the slightest tremor of her body, Gillie Lutteridge began to weep. Tears spilled and coursed down her cheeks, destroying the perfection of her make-up and spotting the immaculate collar of her silk blouse.