by Ruth Sutton
Over her head, the three policemen looked at each other.
❖ ❖ ❖
Twenty minutes later, Judith sipped her tea at Elspeth’s kitchen table. She could hear Sam and Elspeth talking in the other room but not much of what they were saying. Their voices were low and urgent. Sam came back into the kitchen and sat beside her at the table, his head close to hers. ‘We’ve secured the flat, Judith, and the team will go in tomorrow and see what we can find about who did this.’
‘What about my things?’ she said, sniffing. He handed her a handkerchief.
‘Some of them will be fine, I’m sure,’ he said. ‘Have you got insurance?’
She nodded. ‘Dad paid it for me.’
‘So when we’ve finished in there we can make a list of all the stuff that will need replacing, and that’ll be all looked after.’
‘But where can I sleep?’
‘You can have my room here tonight, I’ll sleep on the sofa in the other room.’
‘No,’ she said.
‘Yes,’ said Elspeth. ‘It’ll feel different in the morning and we’ll work out what to do. It’ll be fine Judith, don’t worry.’
‘Don’t tell my mum,’ she said. ‘She’ll make me go home.’
‘That might be for the best,’ said Sam. ‘Just until we get things back to normal.’
‘No,’ said Judith, again. She tried to get up.
Elspeth pushed Sam away and put both arms around her friend. ‘Tomorrow,’ she said. ‘We’ll work it out. You’ve had a shock, Judith, and you need to sleep. Finish your tea. Sam’s going back to the station now, to organise what they’ll do tomorrow. We have to let him do his job.’
❖ ❖ ❖
In the unfamiliar bed, her mind full of images of broken, precious things, Judith Pharaoh cried herself to sleep for the second time in her adult life.
CHAPTER 16
Sam left the two women in the house and went back to the CID room at the police station. He was angry, with Judith for getting herself into this mess, with himself for not seeing it coming, and with the bloody man who’d wrecked the flat. He must have been looking for something, but why trash the place like that? Why piss all over her things? Judith was a nuisance, but not a threat to anyone. She was interested in the bloke and his miserable life in Australia or wherever he’d been sent. She was going to write a story about him and others like him, and now this.
He wrote up his notes into a report of the incident and left it on Morrison’s desk. There would be questions about what he was doing walking Judith home at that time of night but he didn’t care. At least he’d tried to keep out of her way, not going off drinking with the press guys like so many of his colleagues did. Before they left the ruined flat he’d had a good look, without disturbing anything so that the scene of crime team could get the photos they needed in the morning. The bedroom was the worst. The kitchen was a mess but at least no one had pissed in there. In the tiny living room all the drawers of the old desk had been pulled out and their contents dumped on the floor. It looked as if someone had picked their way through them, looking for something, but there was no way of telling if anything had been taken. The cushion of the old red armchair was ripped by something sharp, the foam spilling out like white fat from an open wound. There were human faeces on the carpet, ground in and smeared across whatever was on the floor. He must have been there for a while, to do so much damage. No one downstairs to hear anything, but next door? Sam made a list of the enquiries that would begin as soon as it was light and the neighbours were stirring. He left a message for the scene of crime team and a copy of his report with the duty sergeant and walked back to Elspeth’s house, letting himself in as quietly as he could. Elspeth had made up a bed for him on the sofa. It was past midnight and the house was mercifully quiet.
The next morning he was woken by Tommy carrying a cup of tea with exaggerated care while Elspeth held open the door for him. Sam smiled at the boy and thanked him before Elspeth ushered him back to the kitchen table to finish his breakfast. It was after eight. Sam pulled on his trousers and took his tea into the kitchen.
‘Is she up?’ he asked. Elspeth shook her head. ‘I’m going to leave her as long as I can,’ she said. ‘We’ll need to think about where she can stay. ‘
‘I could move out for a while,’ said Sam.
‘You’ll do no such thing,’ said his sister. ‘This is your home, supported by your money and you’ll stay where you are. God knows your job is hard enough without sleeping on sofas. If it comes to it, Judith has a home to go and it sounds as if her mam would be happy to have her back.’
Sam smiled. ‘Don’t think that’s going to happen,’ he said. ‘Judith’s stubborn. And she wants that job.’
‘Well the people at the Furness News will have to deal with it,’ said Elspeth. ‘If they want her to carry on working, they’ll have to help her find a place so she can. That’s what a good employer should do.’
‘We’ll see,’ said Sam.
Tommy came back into the kitchen in his football kit holding his boots in his hand and Sam helped him tie the laces. ‘I’ll take him to the field,’ he said. ‘Ten minutes while I get washed and shaved. It’s on my way. OK?’
Elspeth smiled. ‘Yes,’ she said.
The front door had just closed behind Sam and Tommy when Judith came slowly down the stairs.
‘I need to phone in,’ she said. ‘I’m on till noon today and I’ll be late.’
‘I’ll do it,’ said Elspeth. ‘I’ll tell them what happened and you’re taking time off to sort things out.’
Judith shook her head. ‘No, don’t say that. Just tell them I’m not well. I need to think about what to do. If they know about the flat they’ll be all over me, asking questions, telling me I should go home to my dad, treating me like a kid.’
‘You’ll have to tell them in the end.’
‘But not yet.’
Elspeth shrugged. ‘Up to you,’ she said. ‘Do you want some breakfast?’
Judith felt ravenous. As she ate her toast, she heard Elspeth on the phone.
‘She came to dinner last night here but then she started being unwell, and it’s gone on all night. She slept in the end but she’s not fit for work… Yes, Monday, she should be OK by then, I’ll get her to ring you… OK.’
Elspeth returned to the kitchen. ‘I expect you heard. Someone called Hattie? She said she’d tell the boss.’
‘That should give them something to laugh about,’ said Judith. ‘And Ed Cunningham probably thinks you’re my secret lesbian lover.’
Elspeth laughed. ‘Is that what he thinks?’
‘Makes him feel better about me rejecting his advances,’ said Judith, laughing despite herself. ‘What am I going to do Elspeth? I can’t tell my dad. He’ll be knocking on the door before we can turn round, to whisk his little girl home to St Bees. I couldn’t bear it.’
‘Are you sure? It would be the most sensible thing to do.’
‘I hate sensible,’ said Judith.
‘We just don’t have room here,’ said Elspeth, ‘and I can’t turn Sam out of the house after he’s been so generous to us. It’s his home.’
‘I know that,’ said Judith. ‘It was very kind of you to put me up last night but I know I need somewhere else. Maybe Hattie would know somewhere. She seems to know everything about everybody. I’ll have to tell them about the flat, but maybe later.’ She reached for another piece of toast. ‘How long do you think it’ll take the police to do what they have to do?’
‘From what Sam was saying, they’ll have been there first thing this morning, to take photos, fingerprints, check with the neighbours. Probably won’t take them more than a couple of hours. Tommy can go to play with his friend down the street and we’ll go and clear up, find out what you’ll need to claim on the insurance.’
‘You’ll help me with that?’
‘Of course I will. What are friends for?’
Judith put down her toast. Tears pricked her eyes but
she wiped them away.
❖ ❖ ❖
Later in the morning, the inevitable return to the flat couldn’t be delayed any longer. Judith felt sick as she climbed the stairs. In the pale grey light of day the devastated rooms looked even more bleak than before. As they began to clear up the mess the owner of the house, alerted by the police, arrived, looked around in disgust and left, muttering about tenants being more trouble than they were worth, and suggesting to Judith that she find another place to live.
He rolled down the window of the van before he drove away. ‘Should’ve sold the bloody place when the wife buggered off. Taken the money and gone to Spain. At least it’s sunny down there, not like this dump.’
‘Can he put me out?’ Judith asked Elspeth.
‘I don’t think so, but you’d better check. What’s the point in getting your place back to normal if he sells the house and you have to go?’
Judith felt as if her life was spiralling down into a hole. She had to sit down for a while in the wreckage of her flat and think about a future that seemed much less certain than before. She didn’t know that the worst insults left by the flat wrecker had been removed by the police. As it was, they put on their Marigold gloves and Judith tried hard not to recognise the fragments of her life as they were shovelled, literally, into the rubbish bags. When the rubbish was cleared away, they mopped and scrubbed until their backs ached. Judith salvaged some clothes that were messy but not dirty and together they carried them in a suitcase back to Elspeth’s. The washing machine was humming and Judith was making a list of list of items to be replaced, and wondering where she would sleep that night when the phone rang. Elspeth answered it, then turned to Judith. ‘It’s for you,’ she said, passing the receiver in her cupped hand. ‘Alan someone?’
‘Judith?’ said Alan Thornhill. ‘It’s taken me a while to track you down. Once a journo always a journo, eh? Hear you’ve had some trouble at the flat.’
‘How did you know?’
‘It was in the overnight incident book at the police station, the one you check every morning. Quite a shock when Andrew came back with his notes and there was your name. Then Hattie said someone phoned in for you, but we didn’t know where you were. More phone calls, and eventually that new young CID chap gave us this number. We’ve been ringing all afternoon. Are you OK? Must’ve been a shock.’
‘It was,’ said Judith. ‘I asked my friend to say I was sick, sorry.’
‘Didn’t want us asking a lot of questions?’
‘Something like that,’ said Judith. ‘I’ve not been thinking very straight.’
‘Not surprised,’ said Thornhill. ‘Nasty business. Did they make a mess?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Judith. ‘We’ve been there since the police finished, clearing up, scrubbing.’ She didn’t want to tell Thornhill about the smell.
‘Well there’s someone here who wants to talk to you,’ said Thornhill. There was a pause and then another voice came on the line.
‘Judith, you poor girl.’ They were the clear crisp tones of Irene Thornhill. ‘What a thing to happen. It must have been dreadful for you. So where are you now?’
‘In Roose, at a friend’s house. She put me up last night.’
‘Well that was very kind of her I’m sure, but we have a ridiculously huge house with just the two of us rattling around in it, and there’s plenty of space. You can stay as long as you like.’
Judith took a minute to take in what Irene had said.
‘Stay with you? Are you sure?’
‘Of course. It would be such fun to have another woman in the house, and Alan is your employer, after all. He needs you at work. He thought you might want to leave Barrow and go back home – St Bees isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ said Judith. Irene obviously had a good memory.
‘Well you can’t come to work in Barrow every day from there, can you?’
‘But –’ Judith said. Things were happening too fast.
‘But nothing, dear, it’s all settled. Have you got some clothes, or will you need to go shopping?’
‘They’re in the washing machine,’ she said.
‘Splendid,’ said Irene. ‘We have a big dryer here so load them into a bag when they’re done and we’ll finish them off here. Might be some things of mine you could borrow if you need to. You know me and shopping.’ Her laugh tinkled down the phone.
‘There’s my scooter. It’s in the back yard of the house.’
‘No problem. I’ll arrange for someone with a van to come and pick it up.’
Two hours later the curtains in Elspeth’s neighbours’ houses twitched. Daimler cars weren’t seen in Roose too often, and Irene’s confident voice could be clearly heard once the TVs had been turned down. Judith had never been in such a large car. The suitcase and the bag of wet washing were on the back seat and Judith sat beside Irene, feeling like a film star going on holiday.
‘This is so good of you,’ she said, as the Daimler pulled away down Cannon Street. ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘Don’t thank me, dear,’ said her new landlady. ‘It was the obvious answer right from the start. Alan knew that as soon I suggested it to him.’
‘I don’t even know where you live,’ said Judith, as the car turned off Abbey Road on a side road that Judith didn’t recognise.
‘We’re just far enough out of town, if you know what I mean,’ said Irene. ‘On that little scooter of yours it’ll take no time at all. Most people just keep going round by the coast don’t they, but we live up on the hills in the middle of the peninsular, higher up. Lovely old village close by, and a view right round, out to the Irish Sea, and across to Blackpool Tower. In the winter on clear nights we can see the glow from the illuminations, but it takes hours to get there by car. There was a steamer across from Barrow in the old days, did you know?’
Judith did know, but Irene was talking so much that she wasn’t sure how to interrupt. Irene looked across at her. ‘I’m prattling aren’t I?’ she said. ‘Really I’m so excited about having someone to stay. Life can get so dull these days. It’ll be such fun.’
Judith began to wonder how long Irene expected her to stay. ‘It’s just until I can get the flat properly cleared and cleaned and get the insurance money,’ she said.
‘Oh yes, I know,’ said Irene, ‘You’ll want to go back to your independent life, but it’s bound to be a few weeks, isn’t it.’
A few weeks? Judith hoped she was wrong about that. Irene was unlike anyone else Judith knew and she wasn’t sure how to talk to her. She was the boss’s wife, so she couldn’t be a real friend, but there was something so lively and disarming about her. And so generous. Judith chided herself for being ungrateful, and she wondered what kind of house Irene was taking her to.
Bay View, as announced by the sign, was a massive house, bigger than Judith had anticipated, lying in its own grounds, at the end of a long drive up from the road. It stood on a low rise, flanked by what looked like an orchard on its south side, the small bare trees quite close together. Beyond that, a few houses straggled down the road towards the church and the rest of the village. Even in the fading light there was a wonderful view, now that a breeze from the northwest had cleared away the fog of the past few days. Irene parked the Daimler by the front door and helped Judith with the bag of wet washing and the suitcase.
‘We’d better wash it all again, don’t you think?’ said Irene, dragging the heavy bag behind her across the tiled hallway. ‘The utility room opens on to the back of the house, but now we’re here I’ll show you where it is and we can get this load started.’
Irene opened a door into what she called the utility room that looked to Judith about as big as her living room in the flat. A range of matching equipment faced them on the opposite wall. ‘Ironing too,’ said Irene. ‘Look at this!’ She pulled on what appeared to be a high cupboard and the door slid forward to reveal the ironing board and the iron perched above it on a shelf. ‘Natty, isn’t it!’ she said. ‘Edna says i
t’s the best thing about this house. Edna’s our housekeeper, by the way. She lives in the village and comes in every day, except Sunday of course. And she gets upset if there’s nothing for her to do, so just drop your clothes in the basket in your room, dear, and they’ll be back, washed and ironed when you get home from work. She’s a treasure. She won’t be in till Monday, so we’ll put this lot on tonight just so you have something to wear tomorrow.’ Irene looked Judith up and down. ‘Or maybe you could borrow something of mine, just until Edna finishes everything off. What do you think? We’ll have a look later. Leave your suitcase in the hall, dear. Alan will deal with that when he comes back from whatever meeting he has tonight. I lose track. He’s out such a lot, meetings, heaven knows what.’
Judith had said almost nothing since she left Elspeth’s and hoped that the flow of words would soon stop. It crossed her mind that Irene might be as nervous about Judith’s arrival as Judith was to be here, in such exotic surroundings. She followed Irene through into a large living room that looked out to the west and the dark evening sky. Irene kicked off her shoes and plumped up the cushions on the sofa. ‘You sit down there, Judith dear. You’ve had a pretty dreadful day or two haven’t you. Now, a drink … there’s gin, vodka, wine, sherry, brandy, what would you like?’
Judith had to think for a moment. ‘If you have some white wine,’ she said finally, ‘that would be lovely.’
‘Of course,’ said Irene, opening a cupboard in the sideboard, which was actually a fridge. ‘Will Chardonnay do?’
Judith nodded, and a large amount of wine was poured and handed over. Irene mixed herself a gin and tonic in a tall glass, added ice from the fridge and sat down, raising her glass to Judith as she did so.