Innocent, Guilty: Criminal Conversation, #4

By Laura Lyndhurst

THE CONVERSATION CONTINUES…YET NOBODY WANTS TO TALK

It's some years since the deadly events which decided Katie on her life course occurred, and matters seem settled for her and her extended family. Working, eating, sleeping, living and loving, they're content to live a quiet life out of the limelight.

Life has other plans for them all, however. Several quirks of fate, along with one desperately-sought answer to a niggling question, ensure that events, and their lives, soon spiral out of control.

Solutions are sought, but there are no easy answers, and relationships come under pressure in the quest to do the right thing.

The innocence of some is obvious, as is the guilt of others, while elsewhere it's not so clear-cut.

 

206 pages approx.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Laura Lyndhurst
• Release date: Jan 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9798224742301

Laura Lyndhurst

Laura Lyndhurst was born and grew up in North London, England, before marrying and travelling with her husband in the course of his career. When settled back in the UK she became a mature student and gained Bachelor's and Master's degrees in English and Literature before training and working as a teacher. She started writing in the last few years in the peace and quiet of rural Lincolnshire, and published her debut novel, Fairytales Don't Come True, in May 2020. This book forms the first of a trilogy, Criminal Conversation, of which the second is Degenerate, Regenerate and All That We Are Heir To the third. Innocent, Guilty, the first of another trilogy, continues the story told in these three books and leads on to The Future of Our House, which is followed by Uphill, Downhill, Over, Out as the sixth and final book to end the series. Laura also developed a taste for psychological suspense, which led to the writing and publication of You Know What You Did, to which What Else Did You Do? is the sequel. Laura has also published four small books of poems, October Poems, Thanksgiving Poems and Prose Pieces, Poet-Pourri and Social Climbing and Other Poems.

Book preview

Innocent, Guilty

Criminal Conversation, Volume 4

Laura Lyndhurst

Published by Laura Lyndhurst, 2023.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

INNOCENT, GUILTY

First edition. January 14, 2023.

Copyright © 2023 Laura Lyndhurst.

ISBN: 979-8224742301

Written by Laura Lyndhurst.

For N and C

Together now

'It is natural to die as to be born'

Francis Bacon

1: THE NATURE OF THINGS

It was never meant to be this way. This was never supposed to happen. But life seems to pick up on what you never intended to do and throw it back at you, as if to say,

‘See, you thought you were in control, but I’m the one in charge around here. Tried to do things another way, did you, go against the grain, be different? Well, I’m here to show you that you’re not. It’s what I say that goes, and this is what I say, so bite the bullet and live with it.’

It wasn’t fair, but life’s not fair, she’d been told that enough times. Stop whingeing, you’ve had a pretty good life, when you look at it. Heiress to a fortune, no money worries, able to do what you want without considering the financial implications. That may be, she’d protested in response, but it’s not like I’m some spoiled rich bitch. I’ve put the money to good use, helped those in need, given to charitable associations and got my hands dirty helping out at hostels and such like, so don’t make out that I’m a bad person. I’m aware of how privileged I am, in a financial sense anyway, and I’ve tried to redress the balance where I can.

To what else but money am I an heiress, she might well ask. She’d been raised by strangers, albeit wonderful people who loved and cared for her when they were under no obligation to do so, and in her turn she loved them to pieces. But they’d raised her because her birth mother died when she was young, far too young for Katie to have more than a few fleeting memories of her. As to her father, she’d never known him, he was long dead before she’d even realised that he was her father. His brother came into her life when she was seven years old, as loving as a biological father could be, and that’s what they’d both believed him to be. She still missed him so much, but in another way she was glad he was dead before they’d both realised that he was in fact only her uncle.

So yes, she had financial riches in abundance, but she’d always been poor on the blood-family side of things. Maybe that was why she clung to Miles, her half-brother as she’d thought him to be for years, before she’d found him to be her cousin. First cousin, and too close for some people’s comfort in terms of their relationship as a committed couple in every sense, but it wasn’t illegal, and how could she help it? They hadn’t been raised as siblings, she was seven and he eleven when they’d first met. It wasn’t as though they’d known from the outset just how close their blood bond was.

Her female adoptive family had been far more accepting of the union than she thought they’d be, when she’d come back from Greece and announced that Teddy was her father, James her uncle and Miles her first cousin—and that she and Miles had become an item and were aiming to stay that way. Vivie had always been like a bigger sister anyway, being so much closer in age to Katie, and with her own love life so full of trials and tribulations that her attitude of Who am I to criticise you? was what Katie had expected.

As to Aunt Celia, Katie could always get around her, given the older woman’s own disastrous early experiences of love—or sex at any rate—which had led her into a profession that opened her eyes to the many and varied kinks of the human nature.

‘If you love each other, chick, and want to be together, then go for it. Just be careful, that’s all I’ll say, and remember I’ll always be here for you if you need advice.’

Yes, it wasn’t difficult to get Vivie and Celia onside.

From Aunt Laura, though, Katie had expected opposition from the outset. It was she who’d thrown a spanner in the works of their developing love, awakening her young niece to the truth and potential irregularity of what might be going on between the girl and Miles. Typical of Laura, it was a difficult subject to tackle head-on, but she’d tried anyway. To make sure her warning wasn’t lost she’d used a present of theatre tickets which—if there had been nothing between the young people but innocent sibling love—would just be a visit to a play, rather than a warning of the taboo nature of the relationship. So it was down to Laura that Katie had gone to Greece and survived the murder attempt—which still gave her nightmares—that had grown from her blood heritage, and caused her to realise that Miles was for her, and she for him, for the rest of their lives.

When Katie and Miles returned from Greece, Katie had gone to see Laura, although she hadn’t told the truth in so many words, preferring to fudge the issue.

‘It’s all sorted out, Aunt Laura, and it’s all good. Teddy was my biological father, so Miles isn’t my brother but my cousin, my first cousin.’

She’d hated lying to this woman who’d been a mother to her, but Miles had insisted.

‘I’ll accept what you say, Kate. If your instinct tells you that Teddy was your father then that’ll do for me. But it might not be good enough for Laura. You know what she’s like, an academic through and through, as am I, if less-experienced. Hypotheses, ideas, these have to be tested in a scientific manner, and the man of science in me is deferring to your feelings because I love you and want to be with you. Laura loves you too, but not in the same way, and your feelings won’t be proof enough for her. You know how she is.’

Katie knew, well enough, but she didn’t want to lie to her aunt. How could they get around it? Miles thought he had the answer.

‘Can we call it being economical with the truth? I’m sure you can manage it, Kate. If you tell her that Teddy’s your father in an emphatic way, exude confidence and be strong, leaving out the details of quite how you know he is, you might get away with it.’

She’d agreed, and done it as he’d suggested, but it hadn’t been as easy as Miles had hoped. Katie had been blunt with Laura, because she’d been expecting a fight, and dreaded Laura asking for the details—had they exhumed the body, or bodies, for the DNA, and so forth. But to her surprise Laura hadn’t gone there.

‘I won’t ask how you found out, Katie, because I raised you well, I hope, and I trust you did everything necessary, and did it by the book.’

Katie had hoped her aunt didn’t see the involuntary flush which rose from her chin to her hairline, but Laura hadn’t appeared to notice.

‘If it’s true then I’m happy for you, Katie, and Miles, so pleased for you both. First cousins is legal, Charles Darwin married his first cousin, did you know? You and Miles can marry too now, if you wish to. Now, how about a glass of wine?’

Katie had been surprised that Laura wasn’t more questioning of the methods by which she’d found out. She wasn’t going to argue though, so thanking her lucky stars—those from which her parents were looking down at her—she went downstairs to get a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses. The bottle turned into several, when Celia got home from shopping, with a takeaway delivered for good measure before they sat together to watch an old film.

Over their first drink, and before Celia came back, Laura had managed to put a sting in the tail of her unquestioning acceptance of the situation.

‘It’s your life, Katie, and I can’t tell you how to run it. I’ve done my best in bringing you up, you know right from wrong, and whichever of those you choose to do I’ll be here for you. You can be with Miles, marry him even, but if it all goes wrong I won’t be the one to say I told you so.’

Katie made to interrupt, but Laura held up a hand to silence her.

‘Your mother took a wrong path in life and I didn’t condemn her, but helped her when I could. I just wish I could have been there for her sooner, and I’m here for you in a similar way. I’d be neglecting my love and duty to you if I didn’t point out one potential disaster area for you and Miles. Because it’s legal that doesn’t mean it’s correct, from an ethical point of view, and for me it’s problematic on that score.

‘I mentioned Darwin and his first cousin marrying, and they went on to have ten children, three of whom died in infancy, but that was par for the course in those days. The other seven—well, even Darwin himself had doubts about the consequences for them of coming from such a close blood bond.’

She sighed, sounding weary in the extreme, which surprised Katie. Aunt Laura, always so full of energy when a point needed to be made. She said nothing, but listened.

‘I won’t go into the details, Katie, but I think you should look them up for yourself, you’re well able to. My point is, do you and Miles intend to have children?’

She’d left the sentence hanging there, and Katie had hastened to inform her aunt that she and Miles were aware of the potential dangers—he being an anthropologist and involved in the study of DNA, consanguinity and all such matters—and children were off the agenda. Laura’s relief was visible and palpable.

‘At least you’re being sensible about it, Katie, mature beyond your years. But you were always a perceptive little thing, seven going on twenty-one, as James told me the first time he met you. Some would call it a pity you’re not going to be a mother, but I never went that route myself, and I’ve had a fulfilled life without children.’

Which made it difficult in the extreme that Katie now had to tell her aunt what had happened. She still found it hard to believe, because they’d been so careful. Six years together and never any issue, so how could it happen how? But those little markers didn’t lie, and she’d done it with three different kits, by three different manufacturers. They all said the same thing.

She was pregnant.

2: PASTURES NEW

‘Good morning to you. There you go now, get that down you.’

The steaming hot cup of tea was placed on the bedside table.

‘What time is it?’

She was just about awake, squinting at the old-fashioned clock beside her. It had belonged to her parents, like this house, and she kept it, in fond memory.

‘After nine already, but that shouldn’t be bothering you now you’ve got all the time in the world to take it easy.’

‘You shouldn’t be bringing me up cups of tea, or anything, not with your knee.’

‘Oh sure, it’s nothing, I’ll not be doing it all day, now will I. I’ll be leaving you to enjoy it now, take your time. The breakfast buns are still in the oven.’

‘Thank you, it’s very sweet of you.’

Laura propped herself on her pillows to drink her tea, while Celia went back downstairs. It was good of her to bring the tea, but Laura was concerned for her, coming all the way up to the attic room with her knee, which it was becoming clear was not improving and would be in need of surgery at some point in the not-too-distant future.

She looked out of the old leaded circular window which sat opposite her bed. This had been her bedroom since childhood and she’d always loved it, the mystery of coming all the way up to the top of the house, via the narrow staircase through the small and secret-looking door on the landing which led to it. She’d continued to occupy it all through her life, although she’d moved to one of the downstairs bedrooms when dear Mags had still been with them, the better to be on hand if needed during the night.

She drank her tea, and considered getting up. It was a luxury, she couldn’t deny it, and a positive part of life now that she was retired. Gone the early-morning rising, fast shower, tea and cereal, getting out as soon as possible to try and beat the traffic on the ring road and get a space in the university car park—far too small since the place had been extended and taken on more students, with a corresponding growth in staff numbers. Gone the getting to her office, making a coffee and checking her emails, preparing for the day, lecture and seminar notes, checking her schedule for departmental meetings or whatever bureaucracy had been deemed necessary by the management for the continued efficient delivery of learning—how she hated the modern terminology—at this esteemed establishment of higher education.

Now, though, Laura could spend all day in bed, if she so wished. She didn’t. She hadn’t really considered retirement. The university had always maintained a policy of making an exception for the academic staff, allowing them to continue teaching past retirement age, while all support staff were obliged to leave at that time. Living through difficult days and adverse economic forces had changed all that though, and now there were no exceptions. Academics were required to terminate their employment and make way for the younger upcoming generation, who were paid lower wages on the grounds of their junior status.

Although Laura had carried on for some years past official retirement age before the new legislation came into force a few months ago, she had been obliged to put an end to her working life at that time. It had been a polite suggestion, over coffee with her departmental head, but the message was clear, if cloaked under a thin veil of concern for Laura’s welfare. We need you gone.

She felt depressed by it all, but tried to shake herself out of it. It wasn’t such a massive change in lifestyle as it might have been, she conceded. I’d been part-time for years, otherwise I’d have been head of department myself. I don’t regret it, I wanted to be home a bit more for little Katie. With her mother dead she’d needed more care, not less, and even though Celia was always at home Laura had wanted to be around to help care for the sweet child, who they both regarded as a daughter.

Celia’s own daughter, Vivie, was that much older than Katie, so more like a much-bigger sister, She’d built her own career in nursing, which she’d had to juggle with caring for Emily, the child she’d had as a single parent. So what with Vivie and Laura having so many calls on their time, the burden of caring for Katie had fallen on Celia, and even though she didn’t mind at all—Katie being the child of her deceased friend—Laura wanted to make sure she wasn’t overworked.

We haven’t done too bad a job between us, she thought now. Katie’s a credit to us all, poor dear Mags included, even if she can be rather willful and headstrong. She’s only human, after all. Katie had grown and flown the nest, as all children must, and although she and Miles—her cousin and partner for life—lived in the area and made frequent visits to the aunts, there was a gaping gap at the heart of the home. Vivie too had moved away, finding love with the right man at last and building her own home with him and Emily. Celia was content to continue as the homemaker here, cleaning and cooking and keeping the place going on an everyday basis. She’d been doing so for years, to the extent that it was her house now, in every practical sense, which was why Laura had bequeathed it to Celia in her will.

Not that I’m planning on going anywhere just yet, but I do feel rather redundant around the place. No Mags to care for, no Katie to raise, no Vivie and little Emily to pass time with, as well as no essays to mark, no lectures or seminars to prepare for. Just the odd academic essay to write for such journals as requested one and a bit of her own writing to pass the time—and of course sitting drinking tea with Celia and reminiscing over old times. Such it is to be getting old. Laura was rueful, despite her realistic nature which accepted the passing of the years.

She drained her mug and forced herself to throw off the quilt. She didn’t want to waste the day in bed, yet the temptation to do so was strong. I’m tired, only natural at my time of life, and such an active life as it’d been. She did the knee-bend exercises which her physiotherapist had recommended for her pelvis—twisted in an accident some years ago—and which she performed every morning before getting out of bed, with no exceptions. On the final bend she pushed herself up, onto her feet, and headed downstairs to the bathroom.

Time to begin her busy day.

3: A DATE WITH PANDORA

He was having difficulty in concentrating on his work today, and that was fast becoming the norm. He went to the kitchen and made a coffee, wandering around the apartment in aimless fashion, stopping before a window and observing the street outside. The flower beds were just as they had been the last time he’d looked, the traffic still passing, although not that often, this being a quiet street on the outskirts of town.

He stood, gloomy, pulling a wry smile, despite himself. The sky was brooding, grey clouds ready to rain, matching his mood. Brooding, close to broody, which was what he was sure Katie was these days. Hormones, who knew what they’d do, or when? She’d been fine, they’d been happy being just the two of them. But then she’d gone to visit Jenny—as she did on a regular basis, living not too far from each other as they did—and found her childhood school friend pregnant with her first child.

Katie had come home excited for Jenny and the visits had increased, her friend wanting company to go shopping for maternity items. Clothing for herself, Miles presumed, plus everything needed to decorate a nursery, wallpaper, cot, clothing, bedding, toys, whatever. Katie had a manageable workload these days, so had fitted that around her attendance on the expectant young mother-to-be and spent a considerable time on the phone to her as well.

It could just be genuine pleasure reflected from Jenny, Miles had thought, enthusiasm can be catching, and the two young women went back a long way. That turned out to be wishful thinking, however. When the baby was born, and Katie made her first visit to mother and child, she’d come home glowing, with reports of the beauty of the little girl. The exquisiteness of her little hands and feet, the chubby fingers and toes, the way she’d smiled at Katie when the delighted godmother held her,—because of course Katie was first in line for the post—everything had served to increase Miles’s feeling of unease and sense that this was no joy mirrored from the new mother.

Katie had been radiant, and not only with reports of the sweetness of the baby and the Madonna-like air of the serene new mother. Miles had thought he could detect a wistfulness about her, an air of longing, repressed because they’d agreed to have no children of their own, for reasons set down by Katie herself and relating to the close bond of blood between them. She’d decided on instinct that they weren’t siblings but cousins, and made Miles swear not to investigate the exact nature of their blood relationship. The force of Nature is strong though, Miles decided, and if Katie was coming round to wanting a child of her own, well—. He loved her, and would until he died, and he wanted her to have what she wanted. If that was a baby he’d go along with it, but—and the but was bigger than both of them.

No more putting it off, he decided now, time to finish it. He resolved to do what had been on his mind for some time, what he’d promised never to do. It was time. Now or never.

4: AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH

She was only about five weeks into her pregnancy, she calculated, so there was time to do something about it. But what? She wasn’t sure. Despite her shock, she was experiencing curious emotions which she hadn’t expected to feel. She’d put the idea of having children from her when she’d decided that she and Miles had to be together, no matter what, closed that door with the firmness of which she was capable and never opened it again. But now it had forced itself open, and feelings which she’d thought she had under firm control flooded out and enveloped her.

Her child. Miles’s child. The product of their love, and what was wrong with that? She was still in touch with the school friends of her youth, Jenny and Charlie, both of whom were now mothers. She didn’t see Charlie that often, the girl having followed in her parents’ footsteps and become the wife of a diplomat, travelling with him in the course of his career and living in Paris at present. She had two young children, a boy and a girl, and photos taken by the proud parents were a frequent attachment to the regular emails which Charlie sent to Katie, between frequent Skype calls.

Jenny on the other hand lived not far away, near Whitstable, and she and Katie met up at regular intervals. She’d not long ago given birth to her first child, a girl, and in the lead-up to the event Katie had been the recipient of the ups and downs of the expectant young woman, the morning sickness, the backaches, the inability to bend over or see her feet. But there’d also been the excitement of the impending arrival, the scan of the child in the womb, the decorating of the nursery, the buying of clothes and toys. Katie had been made a part of these, and done the duty of a firm friend around the various baby shops in Canterbury and Maidstone.

It hadn’t been difficult to help her friend, to enter into her enthusiasm while maintaining a sense of detachment and not getting broody on her own account—or so she’d thought. It had been a strange sensation when little Jessica was put into Katie’s own arms. She’d oohed and aahed over the new arrival, feeling touched in the strangest way