The Retreat(51)

‘I’ve left it too late.’

‘Maybe I could take some flowers along on your behalf.’

‘Would you? That would be very kind.’

‘No problem.’

I said goodbye and ended the call.

I had an ulterior motive for going, of course. I was quite sure Glynn Collins would be there. It would give me another chance to get a good look at him, because the more I heard about him, the more convinced I became that he was hiding something.





Chapter 26

The funeral was at St Mary’s Church near the centre of town, close to the chess club and the library. I hadn’t brought any smart clothes with me, not imagining I’d need them, so I popped into one of the few men’s clothes shops in Beddmawr and bought a black suit off the peg. It wasn’t exactly stylish but it would do. Next, I bought some flowers from the florist next door and wrote a message from my mum and myself. Malcolm’s family weren’t to know I’d never met him.

Noticing a phone shop across the street, I went in and bought a new iPhone, activating it straight away and then logging in to my Apple account to sync my contacts, emails, etc.

Ten minutes later, I shook off my umbrella and crept into the church, laying the flowers with the others. I sat in a pew near the back. Nobody noticed me; well over a hundred people had turned up, many of them Malcolm’s age but quite a few younger people too. I guessed they had once been schoolchildren who he’d inspired through his job as a librarian. I couldn’t see Glynn Collins. He was probably near the front.

The service started, the pallbearers carrying the coffin down the aisle. There was Olly Jones, Malcolm’s taxi-driving son, sitting next to his girlfriend Heledd. Her mother, Shirley, was just behind them. When I’d met Heledd at the B & B I had been struck by her good looks. Now, seeing her and Olly together, I realised what a mismatched couple they were. He was punching well above his weight, which made me think about that limited dating pool again. In a larger town or city, Heledd wouldn’t be going out with an ordinary-looking taxi driver, she would be . . .

I stopped myself. Why was I being so uncharitable? Olly must have hidden depths, a spark I hadn’t witnessed yet. And the poor sod had just lost his dad.

It was an emotional ceremony. The vicar spoke warmly about Malcolm and his contribution to the community. Olly got up and read out a eulogy, stopping every few sentences to take a deep, shuddering breath. Afterwards, Heledd leaned her head on his shoulder. I learned from the lady sitting beside me that, after this service, the coffin was being taken to the crematorium.

‘He wanted his ashes to be scattered in his garden,’ she said. ‘Among the daffs and crocuses.’

The service ended. I made my way outside and was pleased to find the rain had stopped. I wasn’t sure what to do, but the lady I’d sat next to told me I should come to the wake, which was taking place at Olly’s house. ‘All are welcome,’ she said.



An hour and a half later I found myself among a crowd of people, explaining who I was and why I was at the funeral. Malcolm’s wife had died a few years before but most of the older people remembered my parents and were touched that I’d come along to represent them. Most of them were fascinated to hear about their move to Spain and to learn that I was a novelist, and I found myself chatting to a group of retired women who wanted to know where I got my ideas from.

I spotted the shining dome of Glynn’s head through the crowd. He was talking to another man his age, laughing heartily at something the other guy was saying. Was this another member of the Historical Society? I hung back. I wasn’t sure what I was going to say to him. Why was Malcolm scared of you? Why didn’t you want me to talk to Jake?

A scenario played out in my head. Glynn lurking by the river on that fateful New Year’s Day two years ago. Snatching Lily when her parents were out of sight and throwing her toy cat into the water.

Taking her somewhere into the woods. Hiding her in that hut. Doing things to her that I didn’t want to picture. Killing her and burying her, his granddaughter’s best friend, in the woods.

But what evidence did I have for any of this? I quickly ran through it again. Zara had reported that this man made Malcolm seem afraid while she was quizzing him about Lily’s disappearance. The next day, Malcolm died before he could tell Zara any more. It had been a heart attack – but if his heart was weak, perhaps he had been frightened to death, if such a thing was possible.

And in this scenario, Jake had seen or heard something, which was why Glynn didn’t want anyone talking to him. What could it have been? A conversation he’d eavesdropped on? Had Jake actually seen Glynn with Lily? Perhaps he witnessed something that happened before Lily’s disappearance, during one of the many times Lily had visited the house.

I could go to the police with my suspicions but it seemed extremely unlikely there would be any evidence. Even if the police talked to Jake and he told them something incriminating, it would be easy for Glynn to deny it. How likely were the police to believe the word of a teenage boy with learning difficulties?

As I thought it through, I realised I was getting way ahead of myself, my imagination running away with me as usual. To go to the police now, with my half-baked theories, would be liable to cause nothing but upset to Jake and his family. And if Glynn was guilty of something, he would be put on high alert.

I needed to wait, to find out more.