Page 87 of A Forever Home at Honey Bee Croft

One of the firefighters was heading in our direction with another police officer and I hoped neither of them would utter the obvious words –at least nobody was hurt– because they were. Poppy was hurt. Her family were hurt. And those bees had perished for nothing.

‘It was definitely arson,’ the firefighter said, holding up a can of fuel and some rags. ‘We found these.’

‘Can you think of anyone who’d want to do something like that?’ the police officer asked.

Poppy turned in Sharon’s arms. ‘Damon Speight. He’s been stalking me. I reported him earlier but I should have done itsooner. They told me to, but I didn’t imagine…’ She took a deep shuddery breath before rattling off his address. ‘His mum isn’t well. Please tell her I’m sorry.’

‘It’s my fault,’ Poppy said when we pulled onto the drive at Dove Cottage a couple of hours later, acknowledging the police officer stationed in a car by the verge outside.

‘It’s not your fault,’ I said, twisting in my seat to face her. ‘You didn’t start the fire. This is all on Damon, and you’re not in any way responsible for the fantasy world he’s created. You’re a kind person who occasionally passed the time of day with someone you recognised from school.Heturned that into something it wasn’t.’

‘You and Wilf were right about involving the police sooner. I knew he was obsessed. Not to this extent, but I knew it wasn’t right.’

‘But you could never have predicted this and you can’t take any of the blame. He’s a sick man who wouldn’t take no for an answer. That’s nothing to do with you. You have to believe that. Come on, let’s go inside.’

Poppy was exhausted and soon drifted off to sleep, cuddled up to my side. I kissed her forehead, the smell of smoke in her hair transporting me back to Sharon and Ian’s farm. What a night! There’d been some more questions before the fire brigade and police left, leaving the four of us standing in a line, the only light coming from the headlights of my car, illuminating the police cordon blowing in the wind. Sharon and Ian insisted we went back to the farmhouse for a drink and to warm up. We were offered a room for the night but Poppy wanted her own bed, comforted in the knowledge that there’d be a police officerkeeping watch in case Damon turned up at the house. I hoped the police had got him. I hoped they’d throw the book at him. And, more than anything, I hoped Poppy would be able to accept that none of this was her fault.

35

POPPY

I was fresh from the shower the following morning when a couple of police officers arrived with the news that they’d arrested Damon and charged him with offences relating to arson and stalking. I’d need to go to the police station to give a formal statement about the stalking but I was surprised to hear that Jenny had already given her own statement which backed up what I’d said. A further surprise was that the police had been on their way to Jenny’s house after I’d named Damon as the likely arsonist when a call came through from Jenny reporting him. They weren’t able to give me any further details but I was concerned about Jenny so I rang her after they’d left.

She was relieved to hear from me and full of apologies for what Damon had done.

‘A couple of hours after you rang, he arrived home and I asked him if there was anything he’d like to tell me about you. I wanted to give him the opportunity to come clean but he spun me a pack of lies again about how excited you were about the wedding. I asked if he could invite you for dinner so I could be part of the wedding plans and out came the excuses about you not being well and not up to visitors.That’s funny,I said to him,because Poppy sounded fine when she rang earlier. His face fell and he tried to make out that the pair of you were going through a rough patch because you had so many distractions in your life, but he was going to sort it out. I told him that the only thing he was going to do was get an appointment to speak to a mental health professional and he wasn’t to bother you again or I’d call the police myself. He stormed out, so he wasn’t here when the police called. I was up late watching telly when he returned, dirty and reeking of smoke.What have you done?I asked and he just stood there all calm and serene.What I said I’d do. Eliminated one of Poppy’s distractions. She’ll be able to focus on me now.’

I pressed my hand across my mouth, picturing Damon’s face as he uttered those disturbing words.

‘I phoned the police, Poppy. I didn’t know exactly what he’d done, but I knew it was something bad.’

I thanked her, knowing that making the call had to be a tough thing for a mother to do.

‘Wrong is wrong,’ she said. ‘He’s my son and I’ll always love him but I don’t have to like him or anything he’s done. I’m sorry I didn’t pick up on anything sooner. It all seems so implausible now that I know the truth, but I had no reason at the time to think he was lying. I can say sorry a million times, but it’ll never be enough.’

‘None of this is your fault, Jenny. It really isn’t.’

‘I hope you’re hearing those words and applying them to yourself. You always were a sensitive little soul so I can imagine you’re absorbing a stack of blame.’

‘I am.’

‘Then let it go. Shovel a bit of it in my direction and heap the rest on my son and then put this whole sorry episode behind you. Get on with your life and be happy.’

I felt so much better after that conversation, especially as Jenny had shared that she had a younger sister in Wales who’dbeen pestering Jenny to move in with her ever since her health began deteriorating. She’d decided to accept that offer and have her own fresh start and the support she needed.

We said we’d stay in touch, but I knew we wouldn’t. We both needed to let go and move on.

Joel and I went to see Dad that afternoon. His cough had worsened and the doctor had been called. I voiced my fears to Marnie that it could be a chest infection which might develop into pneumonia.

‘It’s possible. Let’s wait and see what the doctor says.’

I’d read the information. I’d always known that, at Dad’s age, something else could take him before dementia did. And if it did, perhaps it would be a blessing. I knew the end-of-life symptoms for a person with dementia and nearly all of them snatched their dignity away, causing pain and distress. I didn’t want that for my beloved dad. Who would? If he had to go, I wanted it to be quickly and quietly.

I returned to his bedroom on my own and kissed his forehead, smiling at the robin lying in his open palm.

‘Try not to go without me,’ I whispered. ‘But if it hurts, it’s okay to let go. Mum’s waiting for you.’

I did feel how Marnie had warned I might – a sense of resignation tinged with relief. With my dreams for a future with Joel in Yorkshire and with the bees here gone, did Dad somehow know that it was time for me to start afresh and this was his way of giving me his blessing? I held his hand, the robin pressed between us.

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