The House With No Rooms
Page 41
‘Bella was the least of Tina’s problems.’ Stella was still looking at the North prints. ‘Michelle Banks says she and Tina used to humour their dad to stop him being in a bad mood. When Tina was nine, he got worse.’ She pulled a face. ‘I thought that she worshipped him.’
‘That’s why she buried her feelings. You’re not supposed to hate your dad. Rosamond Watson was last sighted in June 1976. The year Tina – and you – turned ten. He had murdered her and dug a grave for her body. In that heat the soil would have been impacted. No wonder he was in a bad mood.’
‘It must have scared Banks when they found the body in the Great West Road. He was careful to cover his tracks with the Watson murder, but Watson and Banks killed the soldier on impulse. The ring on his finger was a crude diversion: the police weren’t fooled.’ Tweaking at Stanley’s moustache, Stella sipped her tea. ‘Someone could have told the police that Cliff Banks had lived at number twenty-five. When he visited the crater in the road, and talked to Lucie, he narrowly missed arousing her suspicion. Lucie’s cross with herself for missing his comment about the man dossing in his mum’s parlour,’ Stella said.
‘This case is full of minor errors with major consequences. I mistook Matthew Ayrton for George Watson. If I had confirmed Ayrton’s identity before running with it, think what time we would have saved. It was just that he was a True... he was strange.’
‘You can’t suspect every strange person you come across.’ Stella was firm, evidently guessing that he did just that. ‘I was distracted by Banks’s grief for Tina. I now think that when he took me to the Ruined Arch that first time, he was checking on his “deposition site”.’
‘I’d bet he was obsessed with Rosamond Watson. I wouldn’t be surprised if he often went to the Ruined Arch to “visit” her,’ Jack said.
Stella threaded Stanley’s ears between her fingers. ‘In some ways Lucie solved this case. We gave her the evidence and she did the brainwork.’
‘Lucie played her part, but we were a team,’ Jack said. ‘With practice we’ll become better detectives. Actually Stella, I was going to tell you, those cuttings—’
Stella was following her train of thought. ‘Dad always said keep an open mind. We constructed the case to fit Watson instead of letting the evidence speak for itself. If we had, it would have led us to Banks sooner.’
‘Perhaps. Banks was arrogant: he couldn’t keep away from the crater in the road and he would have been disappointed that his interview with Lucie wasn’t in the newspaper, even if it risked discovery. True Hosts are like that.’
‘Who?’
‘True Hosts are psychopaths with no sense of “other”. Banks fitted that profile.’ Stanley was looking at him, but Jack avoided the dog’s gimlet gaze. He attributed superhuman powers to the diminutive woolly poodle. With his pert ears, Stanley knew more than either of them.
‘What are you starting with?’ Stella asked.
‘Sorry?’ His mind on True Hosts, Jack was thrown.
‘What plant will you draw?’
‘A daisy. Bella was reluctant, she says that it looks a simple flower, but is complicated. I’ve loved daisies since I was a boy. They’re in the Compositae family, a core species in Kew Gardens. It’s defined in Bentham and Hooker’s British Flora. That was written in the nineteenth century, but it still holds true. The yellow centre is hundreds of small flowers; the white petals aren’t petals, but ray florets with teeth. Daisies have no dispersal mechanism, the florets fall off...’
Stanley gave a vast yawn and, flexing his paws, flung himself on to his side, his back to Jack. ‘Dandelions are in the Compositae family too – and lettuce! Plants are like us, different but sharing qualities. A cleaner and a train driver who solve crimes. You and me, Tina, Bella and Emily, none of us fit into an order.’
‘Are you drawing from “dead material”?’ Stella asked.
She’d paid no heed to his ruminations on taxonomy, but Jack felt absurd pleasure that Stella had recalled the term for specimens in Kew’s Herbarium. ‘I insisted. Bella says that reconstructing a dried plant is difficult for a beginner,’ he said happily.
‘Are your lessons one to one?’
‘My driving shifts mean I can’t get to her classes.’ Despite himself, Jack wanted Stella to mind him spending time with Bella as much as he had minded her being with Cashman.
‘Much better: you’ll learn quicker.’ Stella put her empty mug on the glass-topped coffee table. ‘Once you’ve mastered the basics, would you do a drawing for here?’ She waved a hand at the wall.
‘They won’t be like Marianne North’s paintings. I’m using pen and ink as if they were for a botanist.’ Stella constantly surprised him. ‘It’s for science rather than art.’ He bit his tongue at the pomposity. ‘They won’t be as good as Bella’s or Watson’s.’
‘I’d like it to show the sepals, petals, stigma lobes and how they’re arranged in relation to each other. And the ray florets you mentioned, if there are any.’ Stella was definite. ‘It must tell the truth about the plant.’ She lowered Stanley to the floor where, shaking himself, he stood looking bewildered by the gas fire.
‘Wonder what Harry Roberts is doing now,’ Stella said. ‘Enjoying his freedom?’
‘He might miss the routine of prison.’ Jack was pleased that Stella seemed to be able to put Roberts’s release behind her.
She got up. Jack drained his mug. Evidently time to go. He had hoped to stay longer.
Stella was keying her pass code into her mobile phone, her mind already elsewhere. He wondered if, despite what Jackie had told him, it was back on with Cashman. But instead of making a call, Stella picked up a black cylindrical object on a shelf in the alcove and pressed a button on its base. Jack was incredulous: Stella had a Bluetooth speaker.
‘Tina left me this.’ She pushed the coffee table to the wall and shoved back the armchair. She dragged the sofa to the window; too late, Jack tried to help. ‘You might want to take off your coat in case you get hot.’
Jack kept his coat on regardless of temperature, but was unequal to Stella’s decisive tone. He draped it over the back of the sofa.
‘Here goes.’ Stella stabbed at her phone. Jack jumped out of his skin as the guitar riff for David Bowie’s ‘Rebel Rebel’ bounced off the walls.
‘We’re doing the foxtrot,’ Stella shouted and grabbed his hands.
Keeping perfect time, Jack and Stella foxtrotted. In flowing movements, like Fred and Ginger, they glided round and around the living room. As he had weeks before when Stella had danced with Tina, Stanley pranced gleefully in their wake, uttering sharp barks in four-four time.
After half an hour during which the track – set on repeat – played many times, Stella stopped the music. She let go of Jack and returned to the armchair.
Jack flung himself on to the sofa and Stanley came and settled on his lap.
‘We’ll be the best there,’ Stella announced.
‘Best where?’
Stella replied as if the answer was obvious: ‘When we dance together at the British Cleaning Council Ball.’
We hope you enjoyed this book!
The next thrilling instalment in the Detective’s Daughter series will be released in spring 2017
For more information, click the following links
Acknowledgements
About Lesley Thomson
About The Detective’s Daughter Series
From the editor of this book
An invitation from the Publisher
Acknowledgements
I had lots of support and advice in the writing of this novel.
Stephen Cassidy, retired Detective Chief Superintendent with the Metropolitan Police, was, as ever, helpful and committed. (Not least, Stephen demonstrated that it was possible for Martin Cashman to take the role of Senior Investigating Officer when promotion should have precluded him from heading a murder case.)
Frank Pacifico, Test Train Operator for the London Underground, has once
again given me advice and information.
Any errors regarding police detection or driving on the London Underground are mine.
My thanks to Andrew Luck-Baker, Producer for the BBC Radio Science Unit, for putting me in touch with Adrian Washbourne, his colleague in the unit. Adrian produced the wonderful Plants: Roots to Riches broadcast on BBC Radio 4 in 2014, a key inspiration for this novel. His suggestions as to whom to talk with at Kew Gardens and his ‘botanical gems’ were invaluable.
Staff at the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew were extremely generous with their time and knowledge.
Lucy Smith, Botanical Artist at Kew Gardens, talked to me in depth; she showed me specimens, the equipment she uses during the process and answered my many questions. My meetings with Lucy were inspiring and exciting. Examples of her skilled, informative and downright exquisite drawings feature in this book.
Thank you to Dr William Baker, Assistant Head of Comparative Plant and Fungal Biology; Richard H. Barley, Director of Horticulture, Learning and Operations; Tony Cave, Facilities Manager; and Gina Fullerlove, Head of Publications, for making time to answer my questions.
Twice, while having tea in the Herbarium’s staffroom, Lucy Smith found other botanists to solve my fictional (but very real) issues. I was privileged to be treated to mini-botanical seminars by Dr Nicholas Hind, Research Leader, Identification & Naming (Americas); Dr Gwilym Lewis, Research Leader, Integrated Monography; and Dr Tim Utteridge, Head of Identification & Naming and Senior Research Leader (Asia).
Again, any botanical or cleaning errors are my responsibility.
I set this novel in Kew Gardens because I have spent special times there, as a child and as an adult. The Marianne North Gallery is a treat; North’s paintings are rich and absorbing. I acknowledge a debt to that redoubtable artist and explorer.
The public spending cuts have hit the Hammersmith Archives; the resource is open fewer hours and has lost a dedicated space, although I enjoyed visiting it in the tiled splendour of Hammersmith Library. It does, however, have dedicated staff. My thanks to Anne-Marie Purcell for her guidance and research help.
I’m grateful to Emeritus Professor Jenny Bourne Taylor for her reading suggestions on Victorian London.
I have benefited from the unstinting support and advice of my partner, Melanie Lockett. Thanks also to Sandra Baker, Tasmin Barnett, Melissa Benn, Domenica de Rosa, Juliet Eve, Kay Heather, Nigel Heather, Lisa Holloway and Alysoun Tomkins.
A fulsome thank you to all at my agents, Georgina Capel Associates Ltd. Especially, as ever, to Philippa Brewster.
My editor Laura Palmer brings perception and sensitivity to a role already demanding skill. Huge thanks to everyone at Head of Zeus for their hard work and encouragement.
About Lesley Thomson
LESLEY THOMSON was born in 1958 and grew up in London. She went to Holland Park Comprehensive and the Universities of Brighton and Sussex. Her first novel, A Kind of Vanishing, won the People’s Book Prize in 2010. Her second novel, The Detective’s Daughter, was published in 2013 and sold over 300,000 copies.
Find me on Twitter
Find me on Facebook
Visit my website
About The Detective’s Daughter Series
Stella Darnell must clean. She wipes surfaces, pokes her cloth into the intricate carving of an oak table, whisks a duster over a ceiling rose. She keeps the world in order. Her watch is set three minutes fast for punctuality – a tip she learned from her father – and the couch in her sterile apartment is wrapped in protective plastic, though she never has guests. In her mid-forties, six foot tall, Stella is pleasant but firm, helpful but brutally pragmatic. The detective’s daughter has time for neither frivolities nor fools.
Jack Harmon is everything Stella deplores. Fanciful and unpredictable, his decisions rely on random signs. He will follow a paper bag blown along a pavement by the wind; a number on a train will dictate his day. Jack is the best cleaner Stella has ever known. Jack sees that Stella makes sense of his intuitive ponderings. Together, as unofficial detectives, these two misfits solve mysteries that have left the police confounded.
Find out More
Find out more
Find out more
A Detective’s Daughter short story
Find out more
Visit Head of Zeus now
From the editor of this book
If you enjoyed this book, you may also enjoy reading these novels recommended by the editor.
Find out More
Find out more
Find out more
Visit Head of Zeus now
An Invitation from the Publisher
We hope you enjoyed this book. We are an independent publisher dedicated to discovering brilliant books, new authors and great storytelling. Please join us at www.headofzeus.com and become part of our community of book-lovers.
We will keep you up to date with our latest books, author blogs, special previews, tempting offers, chances to win signed editions and much more.
Get in touch: hello@headofzeus.com
Visit Head of Zeus now
Find us on Twitter
Find us on Facebook
Find us on BookGrail
First published in the UK in 2016 by Head of Zeus Ltd.
Copyright © Lesley Thomson, 2016
Illustrations © Lucy T. Smith, Botanical Artist www.lucytsmith.com
The moral right of Lesley Thomson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
9 7 5 3 1 2 4 6 8
A catalogue record for this book is available from
the British Library.
HB ISBN 9781784972219
XTPB ISBN 9781784972226
Ebook ISBN 9781784972202
Jacket design: www.asmithcompany.co.uk
Jacket images: © Shutterstock.com
Author Photograph © Emily Andersen
Head of Zeus Ltd
Clerkenwell House
45-47 Clerkenwell Green
London EC1R 0HT
www.headofzeus.com