‘Aw, Poppy, please don’t tell me the engagement’s off.’
My stomach lurched. ‘Engagement? You think Damon and I are engaged?’
I felt sick as I discovered how far Damon’s obsession with me had gone. He’d told Jenny that we’d got together last October and engaged at Christmas but we hadn’t set a wedding date just yet because I’d had a breakdown after Dad’s diagnosis and barely left the house. He’d given that as the reason why I hadn’t seen Jenny to celebrate and she’d been unable to visit me instead because various health and mobility issues had her housebound. Telling her it was all lies and explaining what had really happened was one of the hardest conversations I’d ever had. I wished I’d been able to do it in person as she sounded broken and I longed to hug her.
‘I feel so stupid,’ she said, her voice strained, as though she was fighting through tears. ‘So many things have just clicked into place. Questions I didn’t even realise were questions havebeen answered. I’m a nurse, for goodness’ sake! How can I not have seen this?’
‘It sounds like you’ve had a lot to deal with,’ I said, gently.
‘Even so… Oh my gosh, Poppy. I’m so sorry. The photos. They’re all of you and I never questioned it but, if you’d really been a couple, of course there’d have been photos of you together.’
My stomach lurched again and I shuddered. He had photos of me? He must have taken them without me knowing, or helped himself to them from my socials. That was so creepy.
‘Sometimes you can be too close to a person to see what’s really going on.’ I was anxious to get off the phone and call the police, but I didn’t want Jenny to blame herself.
‘It’s kind of you to say that, but I should have noticed something. I’m so sorry, Poppy. He’s really scared you, hasn’t he?’
‘He has and it has to stop. I wanted to warn you that?—’
‘You’re going to the police,’ she interrupted, her voice resigned. ‘I’m so sorry he’s put you through all this. He clearly needs help, and I’ll make sure he gets it.’
‘Will you be all right? He won’t hurt you or anything?’
‘He might be an obsessive liar but my son’s not a violent man. You call the police. I’ll be fine.’
We said goodbye and I disconnected the call, my heart heavy for Jenny. What a shock that must have been for her. I looked up at Joel. Out of respect for Jenny, I hadn’t put my phone on speaker but Joel would have got the gist of it. His comforting hug gave me the strength I needed to make my next call.
It had been a long and emotional day, so Joel and I went to bed early. I was drifting off when my phone rang. I grasped at it in a panic, my immediate thought being that it would be someone from The Larks telling me to get there quickly. But it wasn’t The Larks. It was Sharon.
‘Poppy! The hives are on fire.’
My breath caught in my throat. ‘Fire?’
Beside me, Joel flicked on the light.
‘The fire brigade’s on their way,’ she said, sounding tearful, ‘but they’re going to be too late. I’m so sorry.’
34
JOEL
‘On my way,’ Poppy said, her voice coming out all strangled before she hung up the phone. She turned to me, her face deathly white. ‘The bees. The hives are on fire.’
‘Oh, my God!’
In silence, we moved at speed around the room, pulling on clothes. Down the stairs, grabbing coats, Poppy locking up the house as I unlocked my car. Off the drive, through the village, towards the farm.
‘I can smell the smoke,’ she said as we pulled onto the farm track, her voice cracking into a sob.
I wanted to reassure her, tell her everything would be all right, but they’d just be words. Lies. If it had been a dry day and the fire had started by accident, there might have been some hope that it hadn’t reached all the hives, although that probably wouldn’t have saved the bees from the smoke. But it had been wet recently and, even though neither of us voiced it, I knew that Poppy would be of the same mind as me. This was arson and there was only one person who’d do such a thing. The one who hadn’t been home when the police visited. The one who’d toldher earlier topack it in with those damn bees. Looked like he’d decided to make that happen himself.
We crossed the farmyard and followed the track towards the blue lights – an eerie sight in the darkness. No flames. Only smoke.
There were two fire engines and two police cars and I parked the car just past them. Sharon and Ian were talking to a police officer. As Poppy and I made our way over to them, I felt her shaking as she clung to my arm.
Introductions were made and the officer gave us the devastating news – the fire was out but the hives were gone and nothing could be salvaged. Poppy sagged against me and I wrapped my arms round her as she sobbed. I pushed down the lump in my throat, distraught for her. As if the destruction of the bees wasn’t devastating enough, this was also her dad’s legacy, wiped out at a time when he was close to going too. How could she begin to even deal with all that pain?
Sharon was hovering nearby, tears streaming down her smoke-blackened face, clearly eager to comfort Poppy, so I stepped back and allowed the women to hug. Ian joined them and I turned my head away for a moment, wiping away my own tears.