Faith - Lesley Pearse [221]
Sandra’s jaw dropped, Donaldson and Price looked at each other in shocked surprise.
Donaldson recovered first. He certainly hadn’t expected that either one of the Howells would ever admit to that crime. ‘That must have been terrible for you, Belle,’ he said in feigned sympathy. ‘Jackie was badly hurt too, wasn’t she? And Barney was as good as your nephew.’
‘We all loved him, he was the sweetest little boy,’ Belle sobbed. ‘If he hadn’t been killed I could have got Jackie to give us money to go and live in Spain or somewhere, instead she punished us by making us stay in Scotland.’
‘So are you saying she always knew it was Charles driving the other car?’ Price butted in.
‘Well, of course she did,’ Belle snapped at him. ‘Who wouldn’t know Charles in his flash car, driving like a maniac? She was going to tell the police, but I talked her out of it. It wouldn’t bring Barney back and I’d be all alone while Charles was in prison.’
‘But we have it on record that he was in London at the time,’ Donaldson said. ‘He flew back the following day, the airline confirmed that.’
Belle gave him a withering look as if astounded he didn’t realize how resourceful her husband could be when he was in trouble. ‘He had been in London for almost a week before, but he was on his way home when he had the accident. He turned around and drove straight back to London, the cowardly bastard. He even had the blasted cheek to fly back and act like he was distraught at Barney’s death, when all the time his car was having the dents repaired.’
Donaldson looked at Sandra, expecting her to bring the interview to a halt for the day. But she shrugged, the cold expression on her face telling him she thought it advisable for all concerned that he went on and got a complete confession.
‘So Barney’s death soured your relationship with your sister?’ Donaldson asked.
‘She acted like we were dirt beneath her feet,’ Belle said and began to cry. ‘She had all the sympathy for that whore Laura, but not for us. Laura got to spend the following summer in Italy, and when she came back Jackie helped her get that crummy shop, but what did I get? Nothing, that’s what! Just criticism because I didn’t have many guests, or that I spoke to them too sharply. Jackie was lording it up out at her place, coining it in hand over fist with all her properties, everyone adoring her, and I’m stuck with Charles off playing golf, chatting up women and making an arse of himself. I had nothing and no one.’
Donaldson could hardly believe that anyone could be so unappreciative of all her sister had done for her, so lacking in compassion and so utterly self-centred. He wondered if she was actually mad, for surely no one sane could see others the way she did.
‘How about you tell us what brought things to a head with your sister?’ Sandra suggested.
Belle folded her arms and her expression was belligerent, Donaldson sighed inwardly, expecting that she would clam up now. But to his surprise she didn’t.
‘I went out to the farm two or three weeks before Christmas,’ she began.
‘Was that Christmas of ’92?’ Price asked, so it would be on record.
‘Yes,’ Belle agreed. ‘I was so tired of it all, of Charles out all the time, of the guests, having no friends, everything.’
She leaned back in her chair and lit another cigarette, half closed her eyes and as she began to speak, they all realized she was reliving those events.
It was around four in the afternoon and already dark when Belle drove up the drive to Brodie Farm. But as she turned into the yard it was like suddenly entering Santa’s grotto. There were Christmas lights around all the windows of the guest cottages, a holly wreath on each of the doors, and more lights on the evergreen shrubs in planters either side of the farmhouse door.
Belle gritted her teeth, irritated to be once again reminded that her older sister had the energy and enthusiasm she lacked to make things special for her guests. Yet at the same time it seemed like a good omen, for Jackie had always