The Dead Wife. Sue Fortin
Chapter Seven
The White Swan, Arundel, Wednesday, 8 May, 11.50 a.m.
Steph stepped off the train at Arundel and was glad she’d only brought a lightweight jacket with her, the warmth of the May sunshine hinting at the imminent arrival of summer. She arrived first at the pub, found a seat near the window and placed her notebook on the table. Steph’s Twitter profile picture was a clear photograph of herself and it would be easy for Sonia to spot her.
Steph’s gaze trailed the people walking past the pub. Arundel was a popular place with tourists and the clement weather had drawn them out. A woman walking across the bridge towards the pub caught her attention. Her dark hair was tied back in a ponytail and the red-framed glasses she wore looked stark against her pale complexion. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, a pair of lace-ups and a lilac fleece. Before the woman even appeared in the doorway, Steph was certain it was Sonia Lomas. The woman had an aura of sadness about her, and as she paused to scan the pub Steph could see the emptiness in her eyes, the slight droop in the shoulders of someone carrying the burden of grief. The woman met Steph’s gaze, nodded and approached the table.
‘Sonia Lomas?’ asked Steph, albeit needlessly, as she stood up to greet her.
‘Steph Durham?’
Steph held out her hand, which Sonia shook. ‘Nice to meet you.’ She gestured to the seat opposite. ‘Can I order you a coffee or a tea?’
‘Coffee, please. Black. No sugar,’ said Sonia.
Steph returned a few minutes later with the coffee and sat down opposite Sonia. ‘I’m glad you came,’ she said. ‘It’s much easier to speak face to face than over social media.’
‘I assume it was also to weigh me up,’ said Sonia. There was no malice in her voice. ‘Just to make sure I’m not some crazy woman who can’t accept the outcome of the police enquiry.’ The last words were spoken through gritted teeth.
‘I’m interested in the truth,’ said Steph. ‘Whatever that might be.’
Sonia looked across the rim of her coffee cup. ‘The truth is, my daughter was murdered.’
‘Mrs Lomas,’ began Steph. ‘Sonia …’ She looked at the older woman, waiting for approval at the use of her Christian name. Sonia Lomas offered no objection, so Steph continued. ‘Why do you think Elizabeth was murdered?’
Sonia placed her cup carefully down on the table. ‘She was frightened. Things weren’t working out with her husband. She wanted to leave but was too scared.’
‘She told you that?’
‘She left me a voicemail saying as much.’
‘Did you ever speak to her in person about it?’
‘I didn’t get the chance. I phoned her straight back but she said she couldn’t talk. I tried again the next day and the day after but each time she said it wasn’t a good time. Then she sent me a text message telling me not to worry, she knew what she was going to do and she’d be back home as soon as she could.’
‘Do you still have the voicemail?’
‘Of course,’ said Sonia, a touch of indignation in her tone. She fished in her handbag and retrieved her mobile phone. ‘Dial 121 and listen to saved messages.’
Steph took the phone and accessed the voice message. She listened to it twice. Elizabeth’s voice was younger-sounding than she had imagined and Steph tried to match it to the image she’d retrieved from the internet. ‘Hello, Mum, it’s me. Look, I’m sorry to call like this and leave a message. I really wanted to speak to you in person but … things aren’t too good here. I’ve got myself into something and it’s way above my head. I don’t like it. I have a bad feeling about it all. I need to come home. I’m going to leave this place. Leave Harry and come home. I’m not sure when, but it will be soon, just as soon as I’ve worked a few things out. Got to go. Speak soon.’
‘And you’ve no idea what this thing is that she said she’d got into?’
‘I assumed it was her marriage.’
‘Her marriage? I’m not sure that fits with what she’s saying.’
‘She shouldn’t have married into that family. They are way above her pay scale. All that money and property,’ said Sonia with a degree of disdain. ‘I’m just a working-class single mother. Elizabeth was born in a council flat. We never had much money and I worked two jobs to provide for us. I was and still am proud of my background but Elizabeth, she was ashamed of her roots.’ Sonia took a sip of her coffee. ‘She was ambitious, she wanted to better herself, make a name for herself, and I did everything I could to ensure she lived her dream. Only now, I wish I hadn’t.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with being ambitious,’ said Steph, gently.
‘If she’d never met that Harry Sinclair, then she’d still be alive today. I’m sure of that. I blame myself for telling her she could be anything she wanted to be.’ Sonia looked down at her hands. ‘I gave her permission to be ambitious. I empowered her but never did I think it would end in such a bad way. I sometimes think I should have encouraged her to be content with what she had.’
Steph paused for a few moments to allow Sonia to regain her composure. Personally, she thought empowerment and ambition were good things but it wasn’t the appropriate time to challenge Sonia on this. She still had the phone in her hand. ‘Did you let the police listen to this voicemail?’
‘They weren’t interested at all. Said it was just Elizabeth moaning about her husband and it neither proved nor disproved anything. You know, Harry Sinclair has stopped returning my calls. He stopped about six months after Elizabeth’s death. He actually blocked my number recently.’
‘You continued to phone him?’
‘Of course! Even when he moved to France. He can’t get away from what happened that easily. I’m not giving up.’
‘May I send a copy of this voicemail to my phone?’ asked Steph.
‘I don’t see why not. I play it sometimes, just to hear her voice.’ Sonia gave a small sniff and as she looked away from Steph two swollen globes of tears dropped onto her lap. She took a tissue from her pocket and wiped her eyes. ‘Sorry about that. It still gets me.’
Steph reached out and touched her arm. She felt a compassion for this woman who clearly loved her daughter, something Steph could never imagine her own mother displaying. ‘It’s bound to. Take a moment while I sort this voicemail out. Would you like me to get you another coffee?’
‘Thank you, that would be nice.’
It was certainly a strange message, but Steph wasn’t sure it was referring to Elizabeth’s marriage. However, she couldn’t deny her interest was piqued even further, but before she committed herself to anything she needed to ask Sonia some more questions. Returning to the table, she slid another cup of coffee towards her.
‘What was Elizabeth’s relationship with her husband like?’
Sonia let out a sigh. ‘On the face of it, they appeared happy, and they definitely were when they first got married, but once they were living up there at the Sinclair place things started to go wrong. I could tell from the way she spoke – she stopped telling me how wonderful Harry was and started complaining about him.’
‘In what way?’
‘Oh, just the usual. Working too hard. Never having time for her. They used to do quite a lot of things – holidays, weekends away, visiting friends – but that all fizzled out. I think Elizabeth was bored, to be honest. She had nothing to do and playing housewife all day really wasn’t her thing. You know, she was very clever. She had a good business brain and I think she hoped it would be put to use up there, but it wasn’t. All they did was give her a PR