The Other Child

by Charlotte Link

  ‘… waste her life on a rake like me?’

  ‘You’re already cheating on her before you’re married. You’re horrified by the idea of sex with her. You have no connection to her at all. My gran was right: all you want is the farm. The land. Nothing else.’

  He shrugged. ‘I admitted that to you ages ago.’

  ‘I can’t let Gwen walk into that.’

  ‘Do you want to tell her everything? About Karen? About … us?’

  ‘I want you to tell her everything.’

  ‘Leslie, I …’

  ‘Please, Dave. Go to her. Sort this mess out. Tell her the truth. About Saturday night and about yourself.’

  ‘She’ll break down if I do.’

  ‘If the two of you stumble into a catastrophic marriage, she’ll have a much worse breakdown. Or do you think you can hide your affairs, escapades and unhappiness with the marriage for ever?’

  ‘Probably not,’ he acknowledged.

  ‘Put it behind you, as quickly as you can.’

  He did not say anything. She guessed that he was weighing up the various possibilities. He was used to leading people on a merry dance, living on his wits, avoiding conflicts and twisting out of unpleasant situations. He was not used to a straight path lined with disagreeable consequences. And never before had his path crossed a murder’s. Fiona’s violent death had not only upset Dave’s favoured mode of operation, it had also catapulted him into a situation where he could not move forward with his usual mixture of tricks, evasions and cheating. It was one thing to play off against each other the women who drooled over him, or to elegantly manoeuvre them round each other. It was quite another thing to have to explain yourself in a murder investigation. A damn sight different, thought Leslie.

  ‘I assume you aren’t giving me a choice,’ Dave finally said. ‘If I don’t go to Gwen, then you will, won’t you?’

  ‘Before I see you marry? Yes.’

  ‘Then I’ll tell her soon,’ he said.

  She could tell that he had only agreed because she was holding a gun to his head. If it had just been a question of her tough demand in isolation, he would have tried to negotiate with her. He would have used his charm to convince her. He would have fought. But she could see that he was tired of fighting, that he saw the senselessness of the path he had chosen. He was willing to withdraw from the battle, because there was no way to win.

  ‘I can drive you to Staintondale,’ Leslie offered.

  ‘That would be nice. I’ll just leave my suitcase here temporarily and later I’ll—’

  ‘I told you last night: you can take your time to find a new place. Really, this flat is massive. It’s not a problem for you to stay a few days. You can have a second key and come and go as you wish.’

  He appeared relieved. ‘Thanks, Leslie. Shall we have a coffee and some toast before we go? I don’t think I can face Gwen on an empty stomach.’

  ‘Of course. I need a coffee too.’

  They had breakfast in the kitchen. It did not seem that the difficult task ahead had spoilt Dave’s appetite. He fried eggs to go with his toast, and squirted plenty of ketchup on them. Leslie could not face anything more than two cups of black coffee. She looked on in horror and hurriedly smoked three cigarettes. Surprisingly this made her feel a little less queasy. She steeled herself for the comment she knew was coming.

  ‘You don’t eat enough,’ Dave said, on cue. ‘And you drink and smoke too much.’

  She had heard that often enough. ‘I always have. I still feel fine.’

  He looked at her. Considering and doubting what she had said.

  ‘Why were you so worked up last night?’ he asked. ‘Somehow I don’t think it was anything to do with Gwen and me.’

  Without thinking too much she asked, ‘Do you know Semira Newton?’

  ‘No. Who’s she?’

  ‘I don’t know. I was asking you.’

  ‘Semira Newton …’ He thought for a minute. ‘Where did you get the name?’

  ‘She’s a … a part of my gran’s life. I can’t tell you more right now. Have you heard of Brian Somerville?’

  ‘No.’

  Leslie stubbed out her cigarette and stood up. ‘Let’s go. The sooner you talk to Gwen, the better.’

  Dave got up too. ‘Let’s go for a walk by the sea first,’ he suggested.

  She agreed. ‘One or two more hours won’t make any difference.’

  He smiled with relief.

  4

  Sergeant Reek had the impression that in the last few days his job had mainly involved sitting in his car in front of some house or other and waiting for people who took for ever to turn up. The task was excruciatingly boring. He bore it with resignation, in the knowledge that it had to be done. He was also comforted by the thought that his career would soon have a different focus. At some point he would be promoted again. At some point he would be telling someone below him to do these brainless jobs. His boss’s praise that morning had given him the hope that he would not have to wait for ever to step up the career ladder.

  ‘You’re doing a great job,’ she had said. That built his confidence.

  As usual, the traffic was heavy and loud on Filey Road. Pupils and students were swarming along the pavements. Some were already in woolly hats and scarves. The air was cool this morning. At least it was no longer raining, but autumn had definitely come. The first weeks of October had still had something of an Indian summer about them. Now everything had changed. Now you could even start to think about Christmas.

  Christmas! On 16th October! Reek shook his head. And yet the obligatory stars and wreaths were already up in the pedestrian zone. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing to start looking for presents now. Then it wouldn’t be such a rush in December. He always ended up racing from shop to shop late on Christmas Eve, swearing in exasperation that he would never let it come to this again. Only to find himself in the exact same situation one year later.

  He jumped. Lost in his thoughts, he had only just noticed in the corner of his eye the movement on the paved courtyard in front of the large brick house where Karen Ward lived. That was what happened when you sat planning your Christmas shopping instead of looking out. He quickly got out of his car. The young blond woman who was making her way hurriedly to the front door could have been any of the house’s residents, but his intuition said that it must be Karen Ward. She was carrying a travel bag, as if she was returning from a night away. That would fit in. They had not been able to reach her at home late last night. Throwing caution to the wind, Reek dodged his way through the road’s heavy traffic and pushed open the garden gate.

  ‘Miss Ward?’ he called.

  The woman turned around. She looked as though she had not slept much, as Reek noticed immediately.

  ‘Yes?’ she asked.

  He came up to her and showed her his ID. ‘Police. Sergeant Reek. I’ve got a few questions I’d like to ask you. Have you got ten minutes?’

  She looked at her watch. ‘I just wanted to change quickly and then go to uni.’

  ‘Really just ten minutes,’ Reek repeated.

  ‘I’ve told Detective Inspector Almond everything I know about Amy Mills.’

  ‘It’s something else,’ said Reek.

  She gave in. ‘OK. Do you want to come upstairs?’

  *

  The flat was large, bright, extremely messy and empty. Piles of dirty dishes towered up in the sink. Empty mugs, a bottle of ketchup and a jar of mayonnaise stood on the table among the crumbs. Mud encrusted boots had been thrown down carelessly by the door. It was clear that none of the students who lived here felt obliged to tidy up, to clean or do the dishes.

  Probably, thought Reek, everyone leaves it to someone else and in the end they get used to living in the chaos.

  As a tidy, even finicky, person, he shuddered inside.

  ‘I’m sorry it’s such a mess,’ said Karen. ‘We’ve got a cleaning rota, but somehow it just doesn’t work. Sit down. Would you like a cup of tea?’


  ‘No thanks,’ answered Reek, inconspicuously brushing a few bits of food off a wooden chair before sitting down and taking out his notebook and pen.

  ‘So, Miss Ward, as I said, I won’t keep you long. It’s just to check a statement.’

  She had sat down opposite him. He could see that her eyes were red. She had cried during the night.

  ‘Yes?’ she said.

  ‘You know Dave Tanner?’

  She jumped. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Mr Tanner claims to have spent last Saturday night with you. In the Golden Ball in the harbour from around twenty past nine to ten, and then here in your flat. Until six in the morning. Can you confirm that?’

  Her hands closed around an empty mug, opened, then clasped it again. ‘I understand,’ she said in the end. ‘That’s why he’s been calling me the whole time. The display shows at least a dozen calls from him.’

  ‘You weren’t available?’

  ‘I saw his number and didn’t answer.’

  Reek did not say anything. He looked at her expectantly.

  ‘I spent last night at a friend’s house,’ Karen explained. ‘She lives down the road. I … I’m not doing very well right now. No one understands me in the flat, so … at the moment I’m sleeping somewhere else.’

  ‘I understand,’ said Reek, although he only had a vague idea and was not sure if he was right. ‘Are your … problems to do with Mr Tanner?’

  She looked as if she was about to burst into tears. Reek hoped she could control her emotions.

  ‘Yes. I expect you’ve heard from him already that we were together for a long time. Out of nowhere he broke up with me in July. Apparently because the chemistry wasn’t right any more. But now I know there’s another woman.’

  ‘Miss Gwendolyn Beckett.’

  ‘Is that her name? I’d just heard she’s older and rather plain,’ said Karen.

  Without making it too obvious, Reek had a look at her. Although she was obviously coming out of a difficult patch, and looked tired and worn out, she was a very beautiful young woman. Just the kind of girl you could imagine beside Dave Tanner. Quite different to poor Gwen.

  ‘And why does it matter what Dave did last Saturday night?’ asked Karen, who seemed to have suddenly realised that she was being asked a question about something new to her.

  Reek found it very unpleasant to be the bearer of bad tidings.

  ‘He is … well, last Saturday evening there was a … party on the farm where Miss Beckett lives. Mr Tanner was there too.’ Reek could not bring himself to say the word ‘engagement’. ‘There was an argument between him and one of the guests. Mrs Fiona Barnes. And so the party had a somewhat sudden end.’

  Karen knitted her brow. ‘Fiona Barnes? That’s the old lady who was found murdered in Staintondale. I read about it in the paper.’

  ‘Right,’ said Reek.

  He could see her dawning understanding in the expression on her face.

  ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘And because Dave had an argument with her …’

  ‘We’re checking up on all the guests,’ added Reek quickly.

  Karen leant back. She had very expressive features. You could see that she was torn in different directions.

  ‘Please, Miss Ward. A simple answer to a simple question. Was Dave Tanner at your place until six in the morning. Please tell me the truth.’

  ‘The truth!’ exclaimed Karen. Suddenly she stood up, wiping away the few tears that glistened on her cheeks with her balled fists. ‘The truth is that I did everything for him. Everything! I loved him so much. He doesn’t have a job, or a future, or a proper career. He lives as a lodger in that terrible room. But I didn’t care! At all. As long as I could be with him. Talk to him, laugh with him, go for walks with him. Sleep with him. I wanted to spend my whole life with him. Sometimes I have the feeling that I’m dying because he left me. It’s breaking me apart!’

  Reek stood up too, embarrassed by her outburst. ‘Miss Ward, I think you—’

  ‘Did you know he’s been using me and my feelings? I still don’t really get it, but something can’t have been all that fantastic with this … Gwendolyn. In any case, he always needed me now and again. To talk to. To go out with. To fool around with. And for sex. And I was stupid enough to go along with that, whenever he snapped his fingers. And then to sit here alone afterwards, waiting and not hearing from him for days. I started to think about suicide.’

  Reek knew that his words would not mean anything to her right now, but he still said them, because they were true. ‘You’re still so young. Someone else will come. You can be sure of it.’

  She replied as was to be expected. ‘I don’t want someone else.’

  ‘But,’ replied Reek cautiously, ‘neither do you want him any longer? You didn’t answer his calls.’

  She let her arms drop. Her still balled hands relaxed.

  ‘I don’t want him to drive me crazy,’ she said. She sounded very tired all of a sudden. I just want to be rid of him. I want to forget him.’

  ‘He met you at the Newcastle Packet on Saturday and went to the Golden Ball with you,’ said Reek with a level voice, steering the conversation back to his concern. ‘We’ve checked that. So you were willing to talk on Saturday night?’

  ‘No, I wasn’t. I had decided to break off all contact, in order not to lose my health, and my self-esteem too. Or maybe it was the other way round: my self-esteem, and my health. Yes, my self-esteem has been damaged the most.’

  She stared out of the window. Reek thought that she was really almost transparent, she was so pale.

  ‘But you went into the Golden Ball with him?’

  ‘I let him talk me round. But I knew it wasn’t a good idea. When we got there, I quickly saw what the score was. He was frustrated again, dissatisfied. Not that he was exactly forthcoming about what had rained on his parade, but it must have been to do with the argument you mentioned. In any case, I was there to distract him. To jump into bed with him and give him a few hours of fun. And the next morning he would have got up and disappeared and not remembered me for days afterwards. That’s the way it’s been since July. And I can’t do that any more.’

  Reek held his breath. ‘So you …?’

  He did not finish his sentence, but Karen understood. ‘Yes. So I drank a glass of wine with him, talked with him about something important, rejected his attempts to get closer, and told him I was tired and wanted to go home. Alone.’

  ‘He didn’t go with you?’

  ‘No. I didn’t want him to. I even refused his offer to drive me home. I know how charming he is. I didn’t know if I’d manage to stick to my guns.’

  ‘Do you know what you’re saying? That Mr Tanner lied to the police about Saturday night. And moreover, that Mr Tanner no longer has an alibi for the time of the crime against Mrs Barnes.’

  She remained calm. ‘Maybe. I’m just telling you what happened.’

  ‘You might have to repeat your statement under oath.’

  She smiled a little. ‘My statement is not my way of taking revenge on a man who has left me, Sergeant Reek. It’s just the truth. I’ve not got a problem with testifying to it under oath.’

  Reek put his notebook and pen back in the inside pocket of his coat. ‘Thank you for talking, Miss Ward. You have been of great help.’

  She looked at him sadly. Reek thought how bad she must feel. In spite of her resolve to end things completely, all those missed calls from Tanner might have sparked a little hope in her that a new start was possible, a change in the behaviour of the man she loved. And now she saw that he had only wanted to use her once again, to cover himself. Since Valerie Almond had interviewed him, Tanner must have been calling his ex like crazy, so that he could get her on message regarding his statement.

  Bad luck, thought Reek with a certain glee. Bad luck, pal, she’s going her own way now. You’re in a tight spot!

  ‘Goodbye, Miss Ward,’ he said. After a short pause, he added, ‘Allow me a personal comment: Don’
t cry for Tanner. He’s not worth it’

  5

  ‘I have to call my boss,’ said Ena Witty. ‘I want to have today off too. There’s no way I can concentrate on work.’

  Valerie nodded in sympathy. She was standing in Ena Witty’s small and cosy living room and had just refused her offer of a cup of coffee. She had poured enough of the stuff down her throat already – black, hot and far too strong. Her heart hammered too fast and almost too loudly, it felt to her. But perhaps it was just the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She was so restless, she was almost flapping around like a bird.

  To her surprise it was Jennifer Brankley who had opened the door to her. Jennifer’s face was crumpled and her hair messy. She still looked sleepy.

  ‘Are you already or still here?’ Valerie had asked.

  Strange how she did not manage to suppress a certain aversion to Brankley.

  ‘Still,’ replied Jennifer. ‘Ena wasn’t doing well yesterday evening. She couldn’t bear the idea of having to sleep here alone. So I called my husband, explained it all to him, and stayed here. Gwen Beckett’s coming to pick me up any time now. She just wanted to do a bit of shopping and then give me a lift back to the farm.’

  ‘Did Mr Gibson come over last night or this morning?’

  ‘No.’

  Ena was pale and sitting at the living room table with a piece of toast spread with butter and marmalade in front of her. She was obviously not feeling able to eat it. ‘Was it him?’ That was her first question when she saw Valerie. ‘Did he do it? Did he murder Amy Mills?’

  Valerie could not give any useful answer. ‘We don’t know. He denies it, and we don’t have any firm evidence.’

  Ena looked as if she was not sure whether to be happy or sad. ‘So, he might be innocent?’

  ‘At the moment anything is possible,’ replied Valerie. She shook her head when she was offered another cup of coffee, but then sat down opposite Ena.

  ‘If you are taking the day off today, perhaps you could come to the station at lunchtime. We still have lots of questions.’

  Ena nodded apprehensively.

  ‘Where were you,’ asked Valerie, ‘last Saturday night? Can you remember?’