The Family Lie

by P L Kane

  ‘I’ll bet Robyn does.’

  He frowned. Why bring Robyn back into it? Bella knew what that woman thought about her. It wasn’t how he felt, though. ‘And does that matter to you?’ Watts asked, turning it back on Bella.

  ‘No. Not really. I was just trying to help her before. That’s all I ever try to do, help people, Ashley. Same as you.’

  ‘Right. I know that. You’re a good person, Bella. You did help Robyn. You helped me, that’s for damned sure.’ Watts took the jacket off his shoulder and put it over his arm. ‘I thought about coming to see you, you know. When things died down a bit.’

  Bella laughed sadly. ‘I bet I know why. Look into the future and tell you whether Sergeant Watts and Dr Adams will live happily ever after.’

  ‘No, I—’ he began to protest, but couldn’t. Watts would be lying if he said that hadn’t crossed his mind, as silly as it sounded. Something, anything, to give him hope.

  She’d be mad to let you go.

  ‘Doesn’t work that way, I’m afraid. Doesn’t work at all at the moment, not with this bloody …’ She rubbed at her head, hand going from the front to the back.

  ‘I really wish you’d let me take you to the hospital, get you checked out, Bella.’

  ‘It’s not like that. I don’t know how to describe it, except it’s like there’s a door in my head that’s shut and something keeps on banging on it. Something that needs to be let out. It started when my dad died.’

  ‘Oh wow, your dad died? When was this?’

  Rabbit, headlights again. ‘The other day,’ Bella finally admitted.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Watts had no idea why he was asking that, it was really none of his business.

  Bella stared out at the ocean, at a boat on the horizon. Disappearing over it. If he was a betting man, he would have been willing to place a significant amount of money on her wishing she was aboard that vessel sailing away to who knows where. ‘We hadn’t seen each other for quite a while.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Watts. ‘Listen, I didn’t mean to overstep the mark.’

  She turned her head back and regarded him. ‘It’s all right. No big secret. I’m just not very good at the whole sharing thing.’

  It was his turn to look over the horizon, suddenly wishing for a taste of that freedom himself. ‘Yeah, I know what you mean.’

  ‘My brother went back home, to Green Acres.’ Well, that answered that question, he thought to himself. ‘He rang me the other day, wanted me to go back with him but …’

  When Watts faced her again, she was crying. ‘Hey, hey, it’s okay.’ He thought about opening his arms to give her a hug, then decided against it. He barely knew this woman when all was said and done, even as a friend. Though she seemed to know everything about him.

  Call it woman’s intuition, Ashley. You’re a good guy.

  ‘You can tell me anything, you know. I’m kind of like a priest in that respect. Erm, well, maybe not a priest. I’d probably fail the medical.’

  She laughed then and he laughed with her. ‘I’m sorry,’ Bella said, ‘I’m just trying not to picture you with the dog collar now. That one’s going to stay with me.’

  He gave a mock frown. ‘I really hope not.’ The last thing he wanted was for her to think of him as some stuffy religious figure, and she smiled. It was a sweet smile.

  No, he really shouldn’t go there. Extremely bad idea. Of course, he was attracted to Bella, he’d have to be blind not to be. She was gorgeous, and that was after a couple of bad night’s sleep! But there was no getting around her line of work, the fact she was more than a little … odd. Watts still wasn’t quite sure what he thought about the whole psychic thing, really. He believed Bella believed in it. And she had given him that heads-up last year which he’d followed through on, leading to the eventual arrest of a killer. More police forces could probably use someone with Bella’s talents … hunches? Yet it also made him feel uneasy, although that might just be because he wasn’t used to it. Didn’t know what to make of it. For people like Bella, for the people who went to see her – both privately and at her stage show at The Majestic – it was a fairly commonplace thing, he guessed.

  Then there was Robyn.

  She hated Bella, still blamed her for putting a spoke in the wheel where it came to her and her cousin, Vicky. As a psychologist, Robyn came at things from a very scientific point of view and thought folk like Bella were charlatans. That they had an angle, usually money. He’d found it best not to get her started on the subject, because once you did … Then again, did he really care what she thought anymore? He hadn’t heard from her in weeks, but he’d kinda got used to that by now.

  ‘You know what it’s like, Ash,’ she’d say. ‘Work’s just busy.’ And she did juggle two jobs, it was true, which didn’t leave a vast amount of time for a personal life. Working for the university as a lecturer, but also as a consultant for the police. With that guy, DI Cavanagh. Cav, as she called him, a bloke he hadn’t even met but was jealous of even though – as she kept pointing out – he was happily married with kids. Not that Watts thought anything was going on with them, he was just jealous of the closeness they had working on cases together, he supposed. Watts had felt like he’d got a glimmer of that when they’d been working together here at Golden Sands, but that git Cav (not fair, you don’t even know him) got to do it all the time. Working the cases, working those high-profile cases, catching serial killers and the like.

  While he was stuck here, taking down forgers and petty thieves. Smugglers, drug dealers. It was worthwhile work – helping people, as Bella had said – but something was definitely missing. Job satisfaction, a long-term relationship? If he moved to be closer to Robyn, he might get both of those. But, of course, Robyn being Robyn, he still had no idea where she was in this. As non-committal as she had been at the start of … whatever it was. There’d been a spark, definitely. And he’d been to visit her a few times, which had been lovely as far as he was concerned – but apart from a kiss or several, nothing had gone any further. He’d always respected her privacy, stayed in a hotel in Hannerton so’s not to pressure her.

  And Watts couldn’t help wondering if it was down to that first time they’d almost … When he’d asked Robyn if she was sure, because she really hadn’t been before. She’d been drunk and he’d done the gentlemanly thing, the respectful thing. Robyn had been in the state that time, drunk and maudlin. Staying at The Majestic after she’d rowed with Vicky, that had been the evening she’d lamped Bella as well. Because she hated her.

  Imagine if Robyn knew they were becoming friends. If that’s what was happening. Were they becoming friends? When Bella was keeping him at arm’s length now, after she’d come to him for help in the first place? Was his usual luck with the opposite sex kicking in?

  No, there was more to it than that. He knew there was.

  New friends, old friends. More than that? Right now, he just wanted to help Bella – make her feel better somehow.

  She was looking out at the sea again, gazing across the water. ‘Do you ever just feel like walking into that, and never coming back. Not having to feel anything at all?’

  Watts’ eyebrows knitted together again. Of all the things he’d expected her to say, that hadn’t been one of them. Suddenly he was more worried about her than ever, though he really had no right to be. This woman, who spent all her time talking to the dead, was she seriously considering joining their ranks? He realized he hadn’t answered and thought he’d better say something. ‘N-No. Not really. Where there’s life there’s hope, Bella.’

  ‘Your gran used to say that,’ the woman beside him replied without missing a beat.

  He opened his mouth to answer, and closed it again. Then told her, ‘My mum, actually. She’s always said it.’

  ‘She got it from her mum,’ Bella stated simply as if it was just a fact. And it probably was as far as she was concerned; that ‘talent’ of hers hadn’t abandoned her completely then, headaches or no headaches. ‘Qu
ite right too.’ Bella took his arm, slipped hers thought it.

  New friends.

  Then she started walking again and Watts walked with her, in silence.

  Chapter 13

  ‘To old friends.’

  She held up her glass and he chinked it. Old friends. An old friend. And more. ‘Old friends,’ Mitch repeated.

  He hadn’t spotted her until he’d gone up for his next pint, having discovered a local brew he was growing particularly fond of. She was part of the shift change, obviously, as it got busier. Actually, he hadn’t taken much notice of her even then, just asked absently for another ‘Traditional’.

  ‘Nice, that one, isn’t it?’ she’d said, and he’d looked up then to see a barmaid with strawberry-blonde hair and red lipstick, wearing a white blouse and black skirt – broken up with a chunky belt and buckle.

  ‘Hmm,’ Mitch had answered. He’d never actually tried it before, though he recalled regulars here going on and on about it. A generic lager had been his tipple back then, still was when he went out with mates or colleagues from work.

  As he’d paid her, he felt the woman’s eyes on him. Boring into him almost. It had made him feel a little uneasy, if he was being really honest. And more than a little bit guilty, not that he was doing anything wrong – she was looking at him! Nevertheless, he’d felt bad enough to finally head to the phone now he had some change. Placing his pint on a shelf, he dialled the number from memory.

  ‘Mitch! I’ve been trying to get hold of you all day!’ He hadn’t been expecting quite the level of panic he heard in that voice, but then this was Lucy when all was said and done. She’d turned worrying about him into an art form.

  He told her what had happened, how there’d been a break-in and his phone had been one of the things they’d taken. ‘My aunty and uncle helped me clear up the mess,’ he told her.

  ‘And this is the first chance you’ve had to let me know?’

  There was a hesitation then, because of course it hadn’t been. He’d just prioritized the bank, the phone company. Lunch. Pints of Traditional. ‘I—’

  ‘What’s that noise, where are you ringing from? Are you in a pub, Mitchel Prescott?’ He was in real trouble now. ‘How long have you been in there?’ She might as well have been asking how many he’d had. Bloody hell, first Helen, now his girlfriend!

  ‘Maybe it’s not such a bad thing. A bit of time away from each other … Like you said.’

  ‘Uncle Vince brought me, him and my aunty paid for a bite to eat.’

  ‘Sounds like you’ve been having a nice time.’ Mitch knew what she meant: he had been here while she’d been sitting in Downstone not knowing what was going on. Ringing him and not getting an answer.

  ‘Well, apart from tackling intruders in the middle of the night. Yeah, a fantastic time!’

  ‘Tackling? Were you hurt, Mitch?’

  ‘I … Not really.’

  A pause down the line. ‘What does that mean, not really?’

  ‘It means … Look, it was nothing I couldn’t handle.’ Nothing he would have been able to handle if he hadn’t been legless.

  ‘I see. Okay.’ Another pause. ‘And where are your aunty and uncle now?’

  He’d thought about lying, saying they were still sitting in the booth where they’d been earlier, tucking into their rib-eye and shepherd’s pie. But there was always a chance Lucy would find out. Women, in his experience, usually did. ‘They went home,’ he told her.

  ‘Right. I’d better leave you to it, then.’

  ‘Lucy, don’t be like that.’

  ‘Like what?’ The edge hadn’t left her voice in the slightest.

  ‘You have no idea what it’s been like coming back here. My dad, and then last night—’ His pips started to go, and he fished around for more change but found he didn’t have the right coins. The line went dead.

  Shit! She’d probably think he’d hung up on her now. From a pub. Moaning about the fact he’d come back here, when she didn’t even want him to in the first place! Mitch grabbed his pint, took a pull on it and went back to the bar. He’d been intending to get more change, break into a fiver, but when he arrived there the barmaid was still staring. ‘Can I do something for you?’ Mitch asked.

  She grinned, and when she did, dimples appeared in her cheeks. ‘You really don’t remember me, do you?’

  Mitch thought about saying, ‘Should I?’ but that would have been rude. Instead, he racked his brains trying to recall her face, her name. Was definitely struggling and she could see it.

  She laughed. ‘Made that much of an impression, did I?’

  Mitch shook his head. ‘It’s not that, I—’

  ‘Denise? Denise Kelly? We were at school together. That’s assuming you’re Mitchel Prescott, and I reckon you are.’

  Denise … Denise. Oh, that Denise! Mitch couldn’t help grinning, couldn’t believe he hadn’t recognised her. ‘Denise, of course! How are you?’

  She smiled again. ‘I’m good, thanks.’

  ‘What’re you up to these days?’ Mitch thought about how stupid the question sounded even as he was asking it, as she was waving her hand around to show what she did for a living. Some copper he was. ‘I meant, you know, how’re things in your life?’

  ‘Am I still on my own, or do I have a string of husbands behind me and a bunch of kids back at home?’ She chuckled. ‘Still young, free and single. There was someone, for quite a while as it goes. But it didn’t work out.’

  He hadn’t actually been asking anything that intimate, but then Denise had never really been backwards at coming forwards, Mitch thought to himself. Never got embarrassed talking about all that stuff. Yeah, bits and pieces were coming back to him now. ‘I’m sorry,’ he told her, and genuinely meant it.

  ‘And you?’

  ‘It’s a long story,’ was all he’d tell her at that point.

  ‘I figured I’d … we’d see you back here before too long. What with what happened to your dad and all.’

  ‘Yeah.’ He let out the word as a long, drawn-out sigh.

  ‘It was a—’

  ‘Nasty business. Yes.’

  Denise offered a sympathetic smile, showing those dimples once more. ‘I was going to say such a shame. I liked Tommy. Used to come in here all the time.’

  Mitch shook his head apologetically. ‘Sorry, it’s just that people have been saying that to me since I got home. Got back,’ he clarified, because this wasn’t really his home anymore. Hadn’t been for a long time – probably since the last time he’d seen this woman – and that had been his own choice.

  Nodding slowly, Denise had asked him if he wanted another drink. ‘I still have half of this one left,’ Mitch replied.

  ‘That won’t take you long, big strapping fellow like you,’ she said with a wink. ‘All grown up and everything.’

  Mitch could feel his cheeks turning red, nodded just so she’d focus her attention on something else. But Denise kept her eyes on him all the while she was pulling the pint of Traditional. ‘Tell you what, it’s on the house. Because of your dad.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ He felt weird accepting it, even though it was a nice gesture on her part. ‘Only if you let me get you one in return,’ Mitch told Denise. That way they’d be even, right? He wouldn’t owe her.

  ‘All right, ta. Very kind of you.’ She pointed at the spirits on the back, to see if that was okay and Mitch nodded again. Denise helped herself to a gin, adding some tonic to it. Seemed like they had no problem with the staff here drinking while they were working, because that’s when she’d proposed the toast. ‘To old friends.’

  Except they hadn’t just been friends, had they? They’d been a bit more than that. Had even ‘gone out’ for a little while, in that way you do when you’re kids. A snog behind the bike sheds, a fumble or two out in the woods. That kind of thing. Yes, it was all coming back: Denise had been the one who’d set him on the road to being ‘a man’, if you could call it that. Hadn’t popped his cherry, that had bee
n a girl a long way away from here, when he was on his travels before settling in Downstone. Before Lucy even.

  Crap! Lucy!

  He remembered the phone call, what he’d been doing when he came back to the bar – getting change so he could ring her back. Mitch checked his watch: about half an hour had passed. Jesus, even if he rang her now he’d get so much shit. Might be better to just leave it till the morning, find a phone box in the village somewhere because the one at his dad’s was screwed.

  But before he could do anything at all, he was getting a strange feeling. Not his ‘spider-sense’ as such, but a shift in the atmosphere, a hush. The calm before the storm. Suddenly there was shouting coming from the other side of the pub. Mitch looked up and across, saw a handful of people gathering to watch.

  ‘Mitch,’ he heard Denise saying – couldn’t be sure whether she was trying to get him to stay where he was, or wanted him to help.

  In the end, it was simply reflex; he was leaving his pint behind and drifting over to where the disturbance was. Gravitating towards it. In the middle were three men: one a thin, craggy-looking fellow he vaguely recognized, leaning heavily on a stick; another a bloke dressed in quite a sharp suit, looking out of place in a country pub – and that had to be his wife or girlfriend sitting at the table he was standing next to, because she was in a teal silk dress with her hair up (together they looked like they were ready for a night out at the Savoy or the Ritz). Which just left the other guy, who Mitch definitely knew straight away, because he’d nearly run into his tractor.

  The farmer with those huge sideburns – dressed like he’d just come from work, in a ripped jumper and dirty dungarees – was more ruddy-faced than ever, temper colouring his cheeks even as Mitch felt the colour draining from his own.

  ‘Bloody parasite!’ the farmer barked at the well-dressed man. ‘Worse than those hippy trespassers, you are! Why don’t yer just fuck off back where you came from and leave us all in peace!’ It didn’t sound like a request.

  ‘Well, my grandparents were from this area originally, albeit many moons ago, so …’ answered the smartly dressed man.