but he still felt charged, lightheaded, that he had the power of the story-teller, the preacher. The couple in front of him gave him their full attention; they were hooked. ‘Once upon a time a good man arrived in Barnstaple. He was sad and lost and thought he’d found salvation when he moved in with two young women. One was his project worker and one worked at the Woodyard Centre. He’d been weighed down by guilt because he’d killed a child in a road accident, but he started to turn his life around. He started to suspect that an abuse had taken place in the Woodyard. Perhaps he overheard a conversation between the perpetrator and his girlfriend when he first turned up at the church and they thought he was too drunk to understand what they were saying. Perhaps all his information came from the woman with Down’s syndrome he befriended in the Woodyard cafe.’ He looked up. ‘This is a true story, so you must tell me where I go wrong.’
He was aware of Ross coming back into the room. He held a pair of women’s trainers in one hand and men’s walking boots in the other. He slipped them into a large evidence bag and took off his gloves. He gave a brief nod to show there was sand on the soles. The Salters were still staring at Matthew, almost entranced, waiting for him to continue.
‘Simon Walden carried out his own investigations. Nobody took much notice of him. Who was he? A homeless alcoholic, who’d made a mess of his life. But he wanted to do something important, to make things right. What would you call that, Dennis? Atonement? A need for redemption?’ He looked at Salter, but still there was no response.
‘In the weeks before his death, Simon started to travel here, to Lovacott on the bus. At first, I thought that was to give him a chance to chat to Lucy. He’d recruited her to help him, because she was a friend of Rosa Holsworthy, the victim in the assault. And I’m sure they did chat through plans. But that wasn’t why he was making the trip. Each evening he’d get off the bus and sit in the pub over the square from here. The Golden Fleece. The landlady thought he was in love, waiting for a woman. And each evening he’d be disappointed when the woman failed to show and he’d just get the bus back to Barnstaple.’ Matthew saw that Ross was giving him his full attention too. Some of this story was new to him.
‘And Simon was waiting for a woman. But not for a lover.’ He paused and turned to Grace. ‘How did he even know you existed?’
‘Oh, Dennis talks about me,’ Grace said. There was an edge to her voice. ‘I’m part of the reason he’s so admired. The devoted wife at home. The wife with mental health problems he has to take care of. I’m part of the story.’
‘How did you first meet?’
‘He came here,’ she said, ‘when he knew Dennis was at a trustees meeting.’
Dennis stared into the room; his face showed no emotion at all.
‘And he asked for your help, didn’t he, Grace? He didn’t realize how cruel Dennis could be, how controlling he was. He treated you like a strong woman, able to make your own decisions. He thought that once you knew what was going on, that Preece and Dennis had covered up the sexual assault of a vulnerable woman, you’d be ready to act.’
‘I said I couldn’t tell him anything,’ Grace said. ‘That there was nothing I could do.’
‘But he didn’t give up, did he? He said he’d be in The Fleece every evening until you were ready to talk to him. And the week before he died, you plucked up enough courage to go over there. Did you tell him what you knew?’
‘We went for a walk,’ she said. ‘Out to the pond where you found Chrissie; it still felt like winter then, just before the good weather came. There was thin ice on the water. Frost on the trees.’ She paused. ‘I couldn’t be seen talking to him in the pub. Someone would tell Dennis. They think so highly of him here in Lovacott. They think he’s a great man, a kind man.’ Again she allowed emotion, a sneer, into her voice.
‘And you told Simon what you knew?’
She nodded. ‘I told him.’ She paused. ‘Simon was a good man. He wanted to do