Murder On Bwytheney by Elizabeth. Newby (phonics story books TXT) 📗

John, who was a photographer. You could tell he was in the industry because he'd set up a folder of photos that I could view. Even he wasn't requesting payment to use his images.

I clicked on the link and started flicking through. As you would expect, he had an eye for capturing beauty and unique moments. There were panoramic photos that showed Bwytheney as the jewel it was. Other shots captured locals going about their daily business, but somehow, he managed to bring a little magic to each one of them.

As I looked through those taken out at Brynness, I froze. It couldn’t be. But it was. I was sure of it. I zoomed in on the photo and was surprised by the sharpness of the image. Of course, this was the difference between someone like me taking snaps on my phone and a professional photographer. Amongst the various stones and walls of the long-ago ruined castle were three faces that I recognised.

Those thoughts I was trying to push down came rushing back, each piece of information dropping into place, painting a new picture of what had happened.

Chapter 19

I was on my own and knocking on the door of the killer. The solid farmhouse door swung open, and there stood Matthew, the island’s most recent hero. The last time I had seen him, he was walking out the sea with the boy in his arms. He was now dressed in jeans and a shirt with a rollneck jumper over the top. His hair was almost entirely grey and stuck up at the crown. There was a crease running down his cheek. It looked as if he had been dozing before I banged on the door.

“Hi, Matthew. We need to talk.”

He looked taken aback, but I wasn’t about to apologise for my sudden appearance on a Sunday night.

“Erm, sure. Come in,” he said.

“Shall we go to the study? I think it’s best to keep this away from the guests.”

I could see him swallowing hard before leading me down the hallway.

“Can I get you anything? A tea, perhaps?” His voice was shaking.

“No, thank you. I want you to tell me about Melissa Palmer, Matthew.”

He let out a huge sigh and fell into one of the chairs. He leaned forward, placing his head in his hands. His fingers curled around tufts of his hair, grasping them tightly. His knuckles whitened, and still looking down at the ground, he said, “I don’t know where to start.”

“Oh, I think somewhere around 1993 or 1994 would be a good place to begin.”

“Cara, please. You have to understand how difficult this is.”

“And getting murdered is an absolute breeze.” I paused as I heard a small sob. “Matthew, tears are not making this go away. Start talking. Now.”

This harshness was as much a surprise to me as it would have been to anyone who knew me. I just knew this story had to be told. It was time for the truth, and Matthew was the person who needed to tell it.

“I…erm…it was a long time ago. And I was foolish. Things weren’t great between Bronwen and me. Our marriage was under pressure. She was desperate for children, and it drove a wedge between us. One day, after a big row, I went out for a walk to calm down and bumped into Melissa. We got chatting and…”

“Keep going,” I prompted, “you know this has to come out.”

“I had an affair. Melissa and I grew close. She listened to me, which was more than Bronwen did. It was wrong. I know it was wrong. But it just kind of happened.”

“When was this?”

“1993, it was around summer.”

“And how long were you seeing each other for?”

“Seven or eight months. We caught up with each other when we could. But then the rumours started.”

“Is that when you ended it?”

“Yeah. Bronwen got wind of the rumours and confronted me. She was furious, screaming at me. You have to understand how much pressure she was putting herself under at the time. She desperately wanted children, but it just wasn’t happening. She was consumed by it. The idea that she couldn’t have children and her husband was having an affair was too much. I’m not proud of myself, Cara. I should have owned my mistakes back then. But I just kept denying it, trying to reassure her. It would’ve broken her. I couldn’t bear it, putting her in that much pain.”

“And what happened after you ended it?”

“Nothing, Melissa went to stay on the mainland for a bit to give us some space and let the rumours calm down.”

“Matthew, let me make this easier for you. I already know what happened, but I want to hear it from you. This is your chance to share your side of the story. I know you’ve already tried to let the truth out. You’re WakeUpNordIsles2021, right?”

Matthew took a few deep breaths, readying himself for what was to come.

“Yes. I left those comments hoping someone would find out about Melissa and Peter. Honestly, nothing happened for over 27 years. And then my whole world was turned upside down just a few weeks ago.”

He paused, waiting for me to speak. I kept my silence, giving him the space to gather his courage.

“Melissa told me she needed to talk to me, that it was urgent. Bronwen’s never forgotten those rumours, so we arranged a day to meet up at Brynness, away from here.  She was nervous, agitated even. I was really on edge. I mean, what could she want to tell me that was leaving her so unsettled. Oh gosh, this is so hard.”

“You’re doing great, Matthew. You need to say it. You know you do.”

“She told me why she’d really left the island after we separated. Melissa had a baby. A boy. My baby. I never even knew he existed. She gave him away without a word to me.”

Tears were now flowing fast down his cheeks.

“And how did you react?”

“How do you think? I was devastated. I couldn’t hold