Cruel Tide

by Ruth Sutton

  ‘E’d know,’ said Donna. ‘E says ’e ’as to protect me, and ’e does love me, I know that. But I wish…’ her voice tailed away.

  Judith cursed Ian with all her heart, but said nothing.

  ‘Are you going?’ Donna asked.

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Say a prayer for ’im, please miss. Can you buy a few flowers and I’ll owe you for them?’

  ‘I’ll do that, Donna, and don’t worry about owing me anything. It’s the least I can do. Stevie would understand, wouldn’t he?’

  Donna sobbed. ‘E never ’ad a chance, poor little sod. Tell me where ’e ends up and I’ll get there when I can.’

  ‘Of course you will.’

  ‘Got to go, miss. Thanks.’

  As she put the phone down, Bill Skelly emerged from Thornhill’s office.

  ‘You going to the boy’s funeral?’ he called to her. ‘Morrison got the PM report yesterday apparently. They were cutting it fine. Must’ve released the body in a hurry.’

  ‘Anything interesting?’ she asked. He shrugged.

  Judith was puzzled. If it was clear the boy hadn’t drowned the report would have said something about that, surely, and Skelly’s nose for a story would have picked it up. But she didn’t want to break Doc Hayward’s confidence. Maybe no one cared enough to bother about what actually happened. It was an accident, one way or another, and Stevie’s relatives weren’t going to ask any questions.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  Judith bought a bunch of flowers and waited for the bus up to the crematorium. She didn’t want to take the scooter and it was a long way to walk up the hill. She was early and stood under the porch at the crematorium for a while, waiting. She’d put the time and place of the funeral in the paper on Wednesday, but feared that nobody would care enough to turn up who didn’t know Stevie already, and there were precious few of those. There was no one around. A robin was foraging among the leaves before it flew to a branch just a few feet from where Judith was standing and sang its song, more beautiful than she remembered. Maybe she should stop and listen more often.

  At the far end of the long drive a car appeared, came slowly closer and turned around to park beside the square brick building. Captain Edwards emerged awkwardly from the driver’s side, and Mrs Robinson’s head and black hat also appeared. She noticed Judith and raised a gloved hand, just slightly.

  ‘Good morning, Miss Pharaoh,’ said the captain doffing his hat in a vague salute. ‘A lovely day for a sad occasion, is it not.’

  ‘It is indeed,’ said Judith as they approached the porch.

  ‘Thank you for coming, Miss Pharaoh,’ said Iris Robinson, squeezing Judith’s arm.

  ‘Are any of the boys coming?’ Judith asked. She remembered Mikey’s confidence that he and others would be there. Iris looked down, saying nothing.

  ‘We had hoped,’ said the captain, ‘but as it turned out, we’ve not been able to do so. Sometimes hard choices have to be made. We had a short service at the home, but that was all we could provide. Mr Harries is our padre, as you know, and he led us in the prayers, but he was too unwell this morning to take the service here. We’ve had to ask someone else. A pity, but there we are,’ he paused, then added briskly. ‘Cold out here, shall we go inside Iris?’

  Judith wanted to wait until the hearse arrived with the coffin. She couldn’t let the lad go to his funeral on his own.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  Another figure was walking smartly along the drive. Judith squinted into the glare and realised it was the detective whose nickname she couldn’t get out of her head.

  ‘Miss Pharaoh, is it?’ he said, pulling off his gloves and extending his hand. ‘I wondered whether the press would turn up.’ He looked around. ‘Nobody else here?’

  ‘Captain Edwards and Mrs Robinson are inside.’

  ‘None of the lads?’

  Judith shook her head. ‘Captain Edwards said something about hard choices. They use things like this, anything the boys want to do, as bargaining counters, to be promised and cancelled, like carrots and sticks. I suppose that’s better than beating them.’

  ‘I expect they do that too. Kids in school get strapped still, so I’ll bet the Montgomery House lads do, more than most probably.’

  Judith remembered her school days in St Bees where children were caned regularly, before she was sent to the more refined school at Casterton where young ladies could be punished in ways much more subtle than a beating.

  The soft throb of the hearse’s engine made them both turn. The plain coffin in the back of the hearse was pathetically small and Judith could hardly bear to see two men raise it between them as if it weighed almost nothing. She went ahead to put the bunch of flowers onto the coffin and then went to sit with Sam behind Captain Edwards and the matron. Rows of empty seats served to remind them that Steven Stringer’s untimely death was like a leaf that falls in the forest, unnoticed.

  ‘No family?’ he whispered. She wanted to tell him about Donna’s phone call, but that would have opened up a can of worms about her visit to Morecambe. Instead she shrugged slightly.

  Someone in clerical clothes said the familiar words, and Judith was surprised when Captain Edwards rose from his seat, stepped towards the coffin and then turned towards the empty space. He stood up very straight and began to speak, his voice reverberating off the walls.

  ‘Steven was not with us long,’ he said. ‘His short life was difficult in ways that are hard for us to imagine. For a brief spell we were his family, and enjoyed his energy and his jokes. All that is gone, and we grieve for him.’

  Mrs Robinson wept quietly and Judith felt her eyes fill with tears. To her right Sam handed her a large while handkerchief without looking round, which she took gratefully. ‘Thanks,’ she whispered. He nodded.

  In the last final act of the short ceremony, the coffin slid forward and dark red curtains closed noiselessly, hiding it from view. Soon the boy’s remains would stream as smoke from the crematorium’s high chimney and out into the wind. Judith wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Mrs Robinson was still sitting with her head bowed, and Judith followed Sam out into the sunshine.

  Suddenly and without explanation Sam ran towards the bushes at the edge of the car park. Judith turned to watch as he pushed forward into the dense foliage. She heard him shout, then the disturbance in the bushes moved to the left towards the drive and Sam emerged, looking around him. He walked back to her, brushing leaves and twigs from his dark grey coat.

  ‘What happened there?’ asked Judith.

  ‘Didn’t you see him?’ Sam asked, pointing towards the bushes.

  ‘All I saw was you dashing off into the trees,’ she said.

  Sam looked around again and stood still listening. ‘There was someone standing there, at the edge of the car park, when we came out. He ducked back into the bushes pretty quick and I just went after him. That’s what happens sometimes at dodgy funerals, people of interest turn up. That’s why Morrison sent me, to see who would be here.’

  ‘Dodgy funerals?’

  ‘You know what I mean, when the death is unexplained. It’s like people who go back to the scene of a crime. They get a kick out of seeing the results of what they did.’

  Mrs Robinson appeared in the porch and walked towards them, wiping her eyes, with the captain just behind her.

  ‘Always hard when the padre doesn’t know the person who’s in the coffin,’ he said. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting.’

  ‘DC Tognarelli’s been busy,’ said Judith.

  ‘Ah,’ said Edwards, looking at her and then at Sam, who reached to shake the older man’s hand.

  ‘It was good of you to say a few words,’ Sam said gravely. ‘I know you’ll feel his loss.’

  ‘Seen a few good men die,’ said the captain, adjusting his hat against the glare. ‘Some of them no more than boys. But we’ve never had something like this happen at Montgomery House, and it’s hit us all very hard. I hope you’ll have some answers for us soon, constable.
I know you and your sergeant are doing everything you can. And the post-mortem will be completed by now?’

  ‘We understand so,’ said Sam. ‘Not seen the report yet myself, but I’ll be in touch again when if there’s any information that would help you protect your lads in the future.’

  ‘I’m obliged to you,’ said Captain Edwards. Mrs Robinson, her eyes still red, clasped Sam’s hand warmly, and then Judith’s.

  Sam said ‘Just one more thing, captain, before we go. You said that the boys were not allowed to come to the funeral today. May I ask you why?’

  Captain Edwards looked down at his highly polished shoes. ‘It was a difficult decision, but the right one I believe. They have to realise that actions have consequences.’

  ‘So there’s been some trouble?’

  ‘I don’t feel I have to explain the circumstances to you, young man,’ said the captain, but Sam persisted. ‘Does that mean that other staff members had to stay and supervise?’

  ‘Of course, someone must be left in charge if Mrs Robinson and I are both away.’

  ‘And that would be Mr Harries?’

  ‘Yes, as it happens. Mr Harries is looking after things for us. He has led our prayers for Steven, with his experience, you know, but I can’t see what that has to do with the police.’

  ‘No, no, of course,’ said Sam apologetically. ‘Sorry about all the questions, I’m just trying, you know, to get things straight. It’s just that, a few minutes ago I saw someone just over there,’ he pointed towards the bushes, ‘who seemed to watching or waiting for someone, or something. He moved away quite quickly, and I didn’t have a chance to ask who he was. It just crossed my mind, you know, that it might be someone from the home who wanted to be here, to say goodbye to the lad.’

  ‘Did you see this person clearly?’ Edwards asked. ‘It could have been someone waiting for the next funeral, nothing to do with us.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Sam.

  ‘Or it could have been one of Stevie’s relatives,’ said Mrs Robinson. ‘They didn’t respond, but who knows what’s been going on with them?’

  The words were out of Judith’s mouth before she could stop them.

  ‘His sister rang this morning,’ she said. ‘I mean…’ Too late.

  ‘His sister?’ said Mrs Robinson. ‘He never said anything about a sister to me.’

  ‘How did she know where to find you?’ asked Sam.

  They were all silent, waiting for her answer, but she couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t make matters worse.

  ‘No doubt we’ll be informed in due course,’ said Captain Edwards. ‘In the meantime, we’ll drop you both by the police station, shall we? We all have work to do, I’m sure.’

  There was silence in the car as they drove down the hill and into the confusion of building work in the centre of Barrow. Judith remembered Ed Cunningham’s remark when someone had mentioned the swinging sixties. ‘Only thing swinging in Barrow is the demolition crew’s wrecking ball,’ he’d said, at which Bill Skelly had actually applauded. Sitting in the back of the car, Judith could feel Captain Edwards’ annoyance with Sam and all the unasked questions hanging in the air. It was only when she and Sam were standing together outside the police station that his irritation spilled out.

  ‘Right,’ he said, turning to her. ‘Shall we go in? I’ve a few things I need to ask you, Miss Pharaoh. And don’t try the usual journalists’ whine about protecting sources. This is an active investigation into an unexplained death, and you have some explaining to do.’

  ‘And so do you,’ she countered. ‘How could you call that a dodgy funeral? I was there because he was just a kid that no one seems to care about. You were there because your sergeant told you to go and spy on it. It was just work for you, wasn’t it. No wonder people don’t like policemen. Captain Edwards doesn’t like you much, that’s fairly obvious.’

  Sam stared at her. ‘I’m just doing my job. People don’t have to like me. Of course I feel for the lad and what happened to him, but sympathy’s no good, not without trying to find out what happened. If you must know, I would have been at the funeral whether or not Morrison sent me. Now do you want to give me some more information or not. Holding it back isn’t going to help the boy, is it?’

  ‘He’s not the boy,’ said Judith. ‘His name was Steven.’

  ‘Steven, OK,’ Sam repeated. ‘So where shall we have this conversation about Steven?’

  ‘Not in there,’ said Judith, gesturing towards the police station. ‘And not at the paper either. Too many ears flapping.’

  ‘So unless you want to talk to me right here on the windy street, I suggest we find somewhere warmer where we won’t be overheard.’

  It was the noise in Bruciani’s that made it the best place. The hiss of the coffee machine and the steady thump of the Rolling Stones from the jukebox made talking difficult, and listening worse, unless the talkers were quite close together. Judith watched as Sam went to the counter to order their coffees. She didn’t like his attitude. Job first, everything else second and now she needed to decide pretty quickly how much to tell him.

  Sam stirred two sugars into his cup and got out his notebook and the tiny pencil.

  ‘Where do you want to start?’ he asked.

  Judith frowned. ‘You make it sound as if I know everything and I’m keeping it from you deliberately. It’s not like that. I’ve been told a few things, but all very vague. Nothing I’ve got would stand up in court. That’s why I’ve kept most of it to myself, and I still have to consider protecting my sources, so don’t sneer.’

  Sam rolled his eyes. ‘This is the Furness News we’re talking about, not the Manchester Guardian.’

  ‘But this could be a criminal case, you said so yourself. I don’t want to incriminate anyone.’

  ‘Do you know how Steven Stringer died?’ he asked. ‘Let’s start there and work backwards and you tell me as much as you can. All I’ve had so far is dead ends. Who’s this sister, for a start?’

  Judith told Sam what she knew, which wasn’t much. She had no idea how Stevie had died. His sister was called Donna and she was obviously afraid of the man she lived with. ‘Names?’ asked Sam. ‘I forgot to ask,’ Judith admitted. ‘No really, I forgot,’ she insisted as Sam’s eyebrows went up. ‘I think Steve’s mother calls herself Mrs Bell now, Yvonne Bell, and I think that Donna’s surname is Stringer, like her brother. She lives with someone called Ian. I’ve got their address but please don’t just turn up there. He nearly threw me out of the house and he’d take it out on Donna if the police showed up, I know he would.’

  Sam was scribbling assiduously in his notebook.

  ‘How did you find them?’ he asked.

  Judith explained about the school, saying that the address was on the desk, not in a filing cabinet, and that she had followed the trail until she found Donna, but not the mother. As she recounted all this, a thought occurred to her.

  ‘That man you saw outside the crem. Donna told me about another brother, older, who’d disappeared years ago and then turned up.’

  ‘What do you mean, turned up? When, where?’

  ‘In Morecambe, at Donna’s I think, but it could have been at the mother’s. About three weeks or so ago, and out of the blue apparently.’ Judith dredged her memory for any more details but couldn’t find anything. ‘I might have more in my notes. I worked out he must be in his twenties, a year or two older than Donna. Maybe twenty-five. Donna spoke to him, said he had a funny accent. And she said he looked quite tanned, as if he’d been in the sun, or working out of doors.’

  ‘What did he say? What did he want?’

  Judith shook her head, realising that she was pretty hopeless at finding things out. ‘I didn’t get the chance to ask her any more. The man she called Ian came back early and threw me out. Sounds like he doesn’t let her go anywhere except work, or see anybody. A real shit.’

  Sam raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Well, he is,’ said Judith, ‘and I know
worse words than that to describe him.’

  ‘No thanks,’ said Sam, ‘You’ve made yourself quite clear. Now, while we’re in confessional mode, is there anything else you haven’t told me that might help?’

  Judith hesitated. ‘I learned a few things from the lads at Montgomery House but I’m not prepared to give you any names.’

  ‘What did you do, smile at them?’ said Sam.

  ‘Are you inferring I’m dishonest with people?’

  ‘I’m not inferring anything.’

  ‘I just listened,’ said Judith. ‘They don’t like the police, no surprise they wouldn’t talk to you.’

  ‘Anything useful?

  ‘They said that Stevie had told them he had to go home, and that someone was going to come and fetch him.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘No idea.’ She paused. ‘But it crossed my mind that Stevie’s big brother might have wanted to see him for some reason.’

  ‘So it could have been the brother at the crematorium today? But how could he have talked to Steven at Monty House without them knowing?’

  ‘Not difficult. They don’t know I’ve talked to any of the lads this week. At least, I don’t think they do.’

  Sam looked at her. ‘You’re as keen on your job as I am on mine,’ he said. ‘Is there anything else?’

  ‘Have you seen the PM report?’ Judith asked.

  He put his pencil down on the table, annoyed. ‘You’re not telling me you’ve seen it, have you?’

  Judith shook her head. ‘But Doc Hayward said something about how Stevie died. I’ve been trying to get back to him, but the mortuary won’t pick up the phone.’

  ‘What did he tell you?’

  ‘He said that Stevie didn’t drown. He must have been dead before he went into that quicksand.’

  Sam sat back in his chair. ‘Bloody Nora!’

  CHAPTER 7

  Back at the station, Sam sat at his desk, irritated and completely out of his depth. He was supposed to be the detective and there was this pushy woman, hair all over the place, banging down doors that looked locked tight, getting people to tell her things. The school in Morecambe had dithered around with the address and finally said they had no address for Steven Stringer, so how did Judith find it? It had taken him a while to get the go-ahead to visit Attercliff and the delay had given the Montgomery House lads plenty of time to decide to play dumb. The older boys had been brought down to the office by Captain Edwards and instructed to tell Sam everything they knew, but they’d just hung their heads and told him nothing. He always thought being out of uniform would make people more willing to talk, but it wasn’t the uniform, it was the mere fact of being a policeman of any description that put these lads off. Or was it the captain standing there watching their every move and word. He should have asked him to leave.