“Yeah, she would. And she did. I’ve spoken to Joshua’s mother.”
Poppy sat back on the couch with a sigh, “I never thought she was capable of something like that.”
“Me either,” I lied.
“What about all the money Harry gave to her?”
“What money?”
“That Becky was asking for. Harry gave her some money for Joshua.”
“How much?”
“I’m not sure, but it was a lot. He was really stressed about it because you were buying the house at the same time.”
Well, Becky had never mentioned that. She must have seen Harry as a pay day. Not only was she taking Yvonne’s money for agreeing to do it in the first place, but she was also making some on the side from Harry. I regretted not putting her head through that kitchen table. To think I actually felt sorry for her. My list of enemies was rapidly growing by the day, but I’d deal with her later.
“So, is that why everyone is saying his death was suspicious?” I asked.
“Suspicious? How so?” Poppy said, looking confused.
“Everyone I’ve spoken to seems to think he jumped off the Brigg.”
“Do you think he jumped?” she asked.
I didn’t know what to think. If Harry did step off the Brigg, they were to blame. All of them. He was being blackmailed by Becky, hounded by loan sharks, and even his own mother was trying to manipulate him. Harry was always sensitive; it was one of the reasons that attracted me to him in the first place. I’d realised how much pressure was actually being thrust upon his shoulders. Everybody that I’d spoken to ended up confessing they thought Harry killed himself. Aside from me, Poppy was the person closest to Harry; if she thought Harry did away with himself, then I’d start believing it.
“I don’t know. Do you?” I asked.
All the colour drained from Poppy’s face, and she took a sharp inhale. She didn’t even have to respond to my question. Her eyes said it all. “Yes,” she said.
“But why would he do that? We had everything going for us,” I asked.
“I can’t imagine the pressure he was under. None of us can.”
“Why couldn’t he just speak to me about it though?”
“I don’t know, Amelia,” Poppy said sullenly.
We sat in silence for a few moments in quiet reflection. The thought of Harry choosing to end his life filled me with bitter fury. I’d chosen to believe that his death was an unfortunate accident, but the more I spoke to the people in his life and the more evidence I uncovered, the more it felt like he might have actually jumped. Poppy started to look awkward and kept giving me pitying looks whenever we made eye contact. My phone beeped and vibrated in my pocket. It was a text from James.
Remember the man Harry was. It will lead you to the truth.
I scrunched up my face when I received the text, and Poppy looked at me eagerly, waiting for me to explain it.
“Sorry, Poppy. James has just texted me,” I said.
“Oh, are you still in contact?”
“Yes, he’s been helping me get to the truth about Harry.”
“James is so gifted. You won’t go far wrong following his advice.”
“It’s not advice, as such. It’s mostly riddles. I can barely understand what he’s trying to say most of the time. Have you actually met him in person?”
I asked the question innocently enough, but Poppy looked almost embarrassed by it. It hadn’t occurred to me that people could get addicted to this kind of thing, and Poppy was definitely the kind of person who would. It’s so easy not to make any decisions for yourself when you have your own personal psychic a few taps away. James’ motivation to help me wasn’t clear either because no money had changed hands between us. I’d always wondered why he was so interested in helping me. It was definitely a macabre hobby.
“Yes, I’ve met him,” Poppy said, “a few times, actually.”
“What’s he like?” I asked.
“Do you mean does he look psychic?” Poppy joked.
“No, just what is he like as a person.”
“He’s kind. And he loves helping people. He’s helped Josephine and me many times.”
“James has never asked me for payment or anything. He just seems content with helping me.”
“He’s like that. I think he’d charge you for an in-person meeting.”
“I’d like to meet him. When all this is over.”
“He’s incredibly busy. You have to book well in advance.”
Poppy picked up her cup of tea, and I did the same. It had gone cold whilst we were talking. I placed it back on the table in front of me and sighed. I couldn’t tell whether it was the constant stress I was under or the advancing pregnancy, but I was so tired. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d sat down and just had a cup of tea without it ending in tears or screaming. Poppy was in a very calming mood that day; she would usually be constantly at a hundred miles an hour. I think she could sense just how fatigued I was about the whole thing.
“I better get going. I’m off to see the mother-in-law,” I announced.
